


The Marks On Us

by Leronas



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, M/M, Miscommunication, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Possessive Katsuki Yuuri, References to Alcohol Abuse, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Unreliable Narrator, Yuuri has serious self-esteem issues, Yuuri will have Issues (TM), anxiety ridden yuuri, depressive episodes, mentions of self-endangering behaviour, possible implications of self-harm, the last three are pretty limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-11-21 22:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 69,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11367219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leronas/pseuds/Leronas
Summary: Yuuri wasn't sure about too many things in life. He didn't know if he was a good skater, or a good person. He couldn't tell whether the people he met liked him or not. He had no idea if he'd ever regret his decision to move to Detroit or to be a professional figure skater. He didn't know what he'd be doing once he retired from the sport and he didn't know if he'd ever have a happy, domestic life with someone.However, there were two things he knew for certain.One: Viktor Nikiforov was his soulmate.Two: He could live a thousand lives and never deserve to actually have him.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This one has been at the works for a while now, but exams happened and I've decided to delay posting it until I have time and can reliably update on a weekly basis.
> 
> Rating and chapter count might go up as we go along, but there will be no additional warning-worthy themes appearing.
> 
> Enjoy!

Yuuri was five when he first questioned the weird shape on his right shoulder. It seemed... natural up to that point. Probably something everyone has, right? In a way, it was, as he’d learned from his mom. The abstract, unreadable lines existed on each human body, but they were all different from one another. And, somewhere out there, there was a single person who would know his, and the pattern on whose skin he was meant to recognize as soon as he saw it.

They were called soulmarks.

Yuuri had a hard time wrapping his head around it. The world. Was that not a very big place? With a lot of people? His parents said there were multiple continents with many,  _many_  countries on them. How would the person who’d recognize his soulmark find him? And how could he possibly find a mark he’s never seen in his life, on a person he doesn’t know? Running into his soulmate was pretty much impossible. He didn’t really have a concept on how big the world was; he didn’t need to in order to come to this realization. After all they’d travelled to different towns in Japan before, and even that was very far. And supposedly there were places farther than he’s ever travelled to, so it seemed logical that he could very easily miss the person he was supposed to meet.

Regardless of his worries, he still liked looking at the curly shapes on his shoulder. It was an interesting shape, and Yuuri spent a lot of time trying to figure it out.

It looked more like a pattern than one single shape, actually. There were two - in lack of a better word - strange blobs on the top and the bottom of the pattern. He compared the top blob to a person, the bottom one to a hat that’s been stepped on, the whole shape to some weird, future-esque pillar, and so on. After a while he learned the lines so well he could draw them anytime from memory. He drew a picture and hung it on his wall, as a reminder that this is the thing that marks him for someone who was meant to find him. Somehow.

By fourth grade, he came to pay less and less mind to his soulmark. The shapes became as ordinary part of him as his black hair or brown eyes.

Besides, he had other things on his mind. He started focusing much more of his time and energy on skating. Minako-sensei had been nagging him a lot, trying to get him to take skating more seriously: she insisted that Yuuri could be a professional skater if he wanted to, and, well, Yuuri didn’t want to disappoint her, so he practiced more and more every day. Slowly, the topic of soulmates slipped his mind completely.

***

Somehow, to this day, he remembers that afternoon perfectly. He was eleven, and he’d promised Yuuko that he’d wait for her in front of the Ice Castle so they could skate together. He’d been standing at the entrance for over fifty minutes, and he was seriously considering just going inside without Yuuko. Maybe she was hanging out with her friends, maybe she forgot about him, maybe she was with Takeshi... it didn’t matter. At least that’s what Yuuri told himself. He was already about to enter the building when he heard Yuuko shouting behind him.

“Yuuri-kun! Yuuuuuuri!” The enthusiastic cry stopped him dead in his tracks as he turned around, blinking at the rapidly approaching figure. As soon as Yuuko made her way up the stairs, she threw herself in his arms and started squeezing him.

“Yu-Yuuko-san!” he stammered, his brain trying to catch up with what was happening. He didn’t like it when people hugged him without asking, even if the person happened to be his best friend.

“Yuuri-kun, guess what happened!” she exclaimed with a giddy laughter, finally letting go of him.

“Uh... Your parents will let you sleep over at Haruko-san’s?”

“No, silly” she laughed, practically jumping up and down, gesturing wildly toward her collarbone. The delicate swirls that decorated her were as pretty as the last time he’d seen them, and this particular shirt showed them off more than usual. As in, it showed them at all. Normally only one or two curls were visible, the ones very close to her neck: sometimes not even that, due to scarves and turtlenecks. Yuuri briefly wondered how her parents allowed her to leave home with her soulmark bared so obviously like that: the only reason he’d seen it before was that Yuuko and him once got caught in a heavy downpour after skating and Yuuri invited her to come over so he could give her some dry clothes. The rain made her white top stick to her chest, and it made the mark visible as they took sanctuary in Yu-topia. It led to a long conversation about soulmates and marks and love stories.

“Takeshi saw my mark today!” she burst out when she realized Yuuri was not making another guess.

“O-okay?” It turned into a question: Yuuri had no idea why that was significant. He’d seen Yuuko’s mark too, what’s the big deal?

“No, Yuuri-kun, you don’t understand, he  _saw_  my  _mark_!” she repeated, obviously trying to get Yuuri to understand the weight of the situation. He blinked a few more times. He knew Yuuko wanted him to catch on to whatever message she was trying to get through to him, but he had no idea what it might be.

“Okay” he said again, instead.

“Oh, Yuuri-kun... come on! He recognized it!” she exclaimed, obviously barely stopping herself from jumping up and down again.

“Has he s-“ The words died in his mouth. Oh. Recognized. Oh! “Oh. Wow” he breathed.

“Do you get it know? Oh my god, Yuuri, he showed me his, it’s on his ankle, and when I looked at it I  _knew_  it was mine! It was so perfect, like in that movie we watched last week! He was so happy, and Yuuri-kun...” She stopped and went beet red in a second, and leaned closer to Yuuri. “He kissed me” she whispered, then giggled again, and hugged him for good measure. Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh himself, in spite of the weird, unpleasant feeling at the pit of his stomach.

“So we are going on a date this evening, and I’m sorry it seems like I can’t stay to skate today, but we’ll both come tomorrow, I promise!” Yuuko continued when she finally let him go. Yuuri felt his own smile falter a little bit, but he recovered quickly. After all, this was Yuuko, right? And being with Takeshi was probably the most important thing in her world right now, so Yuuri really shouldn’t mind.

“S-sure. Have fun” he smiled, hoping it didn’t look too fake. Even if it did, Yuuko didn’t seem to notice, because after one last hug that she apparently couldn’t contain, she waved goodbye and started down the stairs. Yuuri stayed at the top of the stairs for another ten minutes before finally heading inside for practice. It was a very lonely afternoon.

***

After that, things changed for the three of them. Yuuko and Takeshi spent more time without him, and he felt a bit like he was unwanted, so he just spent more time practicing. They were still friends of course, but now the two of them had something he didn’t – and couldn’t – understand. He hated it. He felt like they didn’t need him anymore. He never said anything, though, because he was ashamed that he could be so petty and… jealous of his friends’ happiness. Still, every time he caught sight of his mark in the mirror, he turned away instantly, trying to forget it even existed.

Then the Figure Skating World Championships of 2006 happened. In a way, the change it brought into his life was thanks to Yuuko, and Yuuri figured he’d always be grateful to her for showing him the godlike creature that was Viktor Nikiforov, Russian junior world champion figure skater. He watched his performance like it was the only thing he could ever possibly need to see: the masterful combination of energy and grace; the androgynous look of his long hair and his costume that was all present in his movements as well; the feminine softness and masculine strength mixing in a perfect way in every little gesture he made; the haunting accuracy of his jumps; the perfect calculation of his spins. He broke world record and flew right to the top of the podium.

Yuuri wanted to skate like him more than anything.

From that day onward, he became fixated on the Russian skater: he hoarded posters and magazine cut-outs and pinned them all over his walls, he followed the news about him like it was the most important thing in the universe, and frankly, for him, it was. When he saw the first picture of Viktor and Makkachin, he immediately started begging his parents for a poodle of his own, and when he first held the tiny pup, he hugged him close and called him Vicchan. The poodle was the only shortcut to Viktor that he knew of. He immersed himself in skating more than ever before. He spent most of his afternoons at the rink, always aiming to get better than before.

The only real obstacle in the way of his career was making his family understand all of this. He needed to skate. He needed a proper coach. He wanted to be a professional, competitive figure skater. It wasn’t just a hobby. It wasn’t something that would slowly fade out of his life. It was a dream he could never give up on.

It was Minako-sensei again who aided him in reaching his goals. He cried for an hour at her studio one evening: over how he’ll never make it to any international competitions without a coach who’s more serious about skating than the one in the Ice Castle, without a coach that’ll focus on him and his goals the way he needed; over how nobody else at the Ice Castle takes figure skating as seriously as him, because obviously Yuuko and Takeshi are more interested in each other than skating; over how he’ll never be a proper figure skater at this rate and how Viktor Nikiforov was already breaking world records just a year older than he is now. Minako took him more seriously than anyone else when it came to skating: maybe she saw something in him that nobody else did, he didn’t know. But she convinced his parents to support him more, and by the time he turned sixteen, he started regularly training with a coach, Souma Ichigawa, who was teaching in a city that was about an hour by train from Hasetsu.

He was determined. And… maybe he was running. Yuuko turned eighteen that year and Nishigori wasted no time in asking for her hand: they were to marry in April. Yuuri felt more and more like he didn’t belong with them anymore. They were ready to build their life together, and Yuuri was not meant to be part of that. He couldn’t even understand any of it, what with soulmarks and soulmates. He had no other friends in Hasetsu. Of course, he loved his family and he  _adored_  Vicchan, but... somehow he found himself wanting to be away from his hometown more and more. By March, he took the train to his coach three times a week, and they’d started preparing programs for the next season. He focused his life solely on skating. When he wasn’t training with his coach, he was training at Minako’s ballet studio or the Ice Castle, and when he wasn’t doing either, he was studying.

Of course, he attended Yuuko’s and Takeshi’s wedding: he would’ve been the best man, had he been old enough. And when the Nishigoris moved into their new apartment, he was there, helping them renovate the place, painting and packing, everything they needed him for. Sometimes, after an afternoon of hard work, they’d sit in the middle of the half-finished living room and chat away for a while, teasing and laughing, and Yuuri felt as if everything was still the same; but then he stepped on the ice the next day, remembered the feeling of having his friends in the rink with him, and felt even lonelier than before.

The next season approached quickly: before he’d noticed, he started spending four days a week with his coach, drilling jumps day in and day out, working out the last kinks in his routines, perfecting his step sequences, practicing his spins, getting ready for his first competitive season.

The first time he had to step onto the ice to perform his short program, he felt like he was going to faint right there: he was surprised he managed to pull off most of his jumps without falling, because he barely had any idea what he was doing. When he finally got off the ice, he was trembling like someone was shaking him, and had to hold on to his coach’s arm as he was waiting for his scores in order not to collapse. It was a pretty low score, but it barely registered in his brain as he was trying not to fall apart right then and there. His free skate didn’t go much better: he finished third to last, when he could’ve finished first based on his skill alone, had his nerves not betrayed him. He was humiliated.

If it weren’t for his coach, maybe he would’ve ran away at that point, given up on skating and curled up under his covers in disgrace for the rest of his life. As it was, his coach didn’t let him do that, effectively saving his skating career from coming to an early and disgraceful end.

***

Yuuri had been back in Hasetsu for a week after the humiliation in his first ever competition. He knew his coach had been calling him, he saw all the missed calls on his cell, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer it or call him back. He didn’t want to face what had happened: he’d been crying his soul out for the past few days, and not even Vicchan could cheer him up. The loyal dog was constantly with him during the week, but he couldn’t find comfort in his furry little companion like he used to. He felt like everything was lost. He did horribly. Maybe he had been uppish, thinking he could actually be a competitive skater. He was probably a lot more mediocre than he thought. He had no chance of ever being anywhere  _near_  the ice Viktor Nikiforov skated on, never mind skating  _with_  him. He curled in on himself again, turning his back to his room, not wanting to see the posters of his idol everywhere. For some reason he felt as though he failed Viktor himself; not that Viktor even knew who he was. Not that he ever would.

The knock on his door had him jumping. So far, his family seemed to have decided that they weren’t going to bother him: he made it obvious that he needed time for himself and they’d always respected his wishes for privacy.

“Yes?” he asked, voice a bit raspy, both from the lack of use and all the crying he’d been doing.

“Yuuri, dear, Souma-sensei is here to see you” his mother peeked through the door. Yuuri must have looked comical: there was no way the absolute terror he felt didn’t make its way onto his face.

“T-tell him to leave!” he exclaimed, jumping up from his bed.

“Yuuri! He told me he’s been calling you repeatedly this week. He was worried and he travelled all the way here just to see you. You will make yourself presentable and meet him in the living room!” He knew that particular look on his mother’s face: it meant he didn’t have any say in the matter. Neither Mari nor he ever dared to not do what she said after the Look. Still white from terror, he changed his clothes and smoothed his hair down quickly, washed his face, then headed to the living room.

Having to face his coach, and, in consequence, his failure was almost as hard as skating in that wretched competition.

“Yuuri! Nice to see you again” the man said as soon as Yuuri entered the living room. The boy mumbled a greeting, bowing a bit, then sat down opposite of him.

“You haven’t been answering my calls, so I got worried” he stated. “I figured you’d be feeling down after what happened at the competition last week, but I didn’t think you’d hide away and skip all practice with the next challenges coming up.” The way he said it was casual and conversational, but Yuuri knew all too well that he wasn’t happy with him. Not that he didn’t understand.

“Thank you for coming, Souma-sensei” he answered quietly, head bowed. “But I don’t think there is any point of continuing my training.”

“What do you mean, Yuuri?” he inquired.

“I- Uh... I-I think... I-I’m not good enough for this sport” he stammered out. He hated admitting the feeling, he hated looking so damn weak, but he had no choice. Souma-sensei had given him a lot of time and attention, the least he owed him was a proper explanation. “T-the competition last week p-proved that” he added.

The silence was uncomfortably long after that. He couldn’t get himself to look up at Ichigawa, so he started picking on the sleeve of his shirt. It felt like hours by the time his coach finally sighed.

“Yuuri... What happened last week was just a slip-up. Your scores were not as horrible as they could’ve been, seeing how this was the very first competition you’ve ever been in. You were the only first-timer in the event, and you still didn’t place last. We just need to figure out how to handle your nerves when it comes to the competitions and you’ll do just fine next time. You cannot give up after one failure” he explained carefully, keeping his eyes on Yuuri. He still didn’t really believe him though. Obviously he’d say that, but is he really convinced Yuuri should keep skating? Maybe he only said things like that to keep the income the Katsuki family is providing him with. He instantly scolded himself for that thought: he respected the man greatly; it was highly impolite of him to even think about something like that.

“What if I fail again?” he asked quietly instead, finally glancing up at the man opposite of him.

“Did you think about that when you’ve learned how to land a triple axel?” Yuuri opened his mouth to answer but his coach raised his hand to stop him. “I know you didn’t. You never would’ve learned it if you were too scared to try again after the first fall.” He fixed Yuuri with a pointed stare, then gave him a few minutes to think, sipping the tea Yuuri’s mother must’ve made for him. He was right, of course, and it surprised Yuuri how quickly he understood that. Of course he couldn’t have learned the jumps without falling again and again. And if competing was in some way like landing a jump... well, in that case, of course he couldn’t win a competition without trying again and again.

“So? Will I see you next Monday?” Ichigawa asked, giving him a look that told him he already knows the answer. Yuuri blushed and nodded. “Good. Now, I must head back for my afternoon class. Hopefully I’ll still make it” he mused, standing up.

“And Yuuri?”

“Yes?”

“If you’re not there on Monday, I’m coming for you myself and dragging you to the rink if I must.”

“Y-yes.”

***

The rest of the season flew by before Yuuri had time to realize what was happening. Competition after competition: Yuuko and Nishigori were there to support him on some, Yuuko’s belly growing larger every time he saw her.

That was something he tried his mightiest not to think about. He knew they were expecting a baby – he was the first who’d been told –, but he didn’t really know what to do with the fact. He wasn’t even eighteen yet, and Yuuko was going to have a child. After he returned to Hasetsu from a competition, Yuuko greeted him with as much excitement as she did back when she first figured out Takeshi was her soulmate: they were expecting triplets. The word made Yuuri’s head spin.

He wasn’t even eighteen and Yuuko was going to have three children.

It seemed surreal.

So did the fact that his name was on the list of competitors for the Japanese Nationals. By November he spent six days a week training with his coach, dragging himself on and off the train each day, trying to manage the nerves that were trying to get the best of him again and working religiously on his quad toe loop. He wanted it in the program, but Souma-sensei insisted that he only attempt it if he can reliably land it.

What with the practice and the excitement, he hardly had time to register his own birthday, and he didn’t really pay attention to Yuuko’s state either. They were expecting the babies in June anyway. He didn’t have time to help buy clothes and supplies, and he couldn’t afford to spend his day off away from his studies to help Yuuko pick wall deco for the triplets’ room. Thankfully this meant he also didn’t have time to think about how lonely skating was making him.

The only company he really kept was Vicchan: the dog was there to welcome him home every evening when he stumbled through the door, all bruised feet and aching muscles. Vicchan slept with him every night now, and nobody commented on it, even though his mom used to insist he doesn’t let the poodle into his bed. Vicchan whined at him and licked him when he woke up from yet another nightmare entailing a horrific failure at the Nationals, and his steady breathing helped him find sleep again.

He also did one other thing: he watched Viktor. He never really stopped watching him, but he didn’t have much time to follow the Grand Prix series that year, so he only watched his programs on recordings in-between two rounds of practice. Now, as a way of trying to calm his nerves, he re-watched Viktor’s performances at the Finals again and again, until he could see it with his eyes closed. Sometimes he found himself copying a few moves from it as he was practicing, slipping into copying Viktor with practiced ease. It was comforting to know that he was coming at least a step closer to him, but at the same time it terrified him. Because if he failed now... will he ever see Viktor? Will he ever get to skate on the same ice as him?

As he got closer and closer to the Nationals, the questions became more and more overwhelming, to the point where he started having trouble thinking about anything else but the prospect of failing in front of his entire country, of becoming the laughing stock of Japanese figure skating. He didn’t want it to end here, but he was terrified it would. He only found solace in Vicchan and skating Viktor’s programs in his rare moments of free time. If it weren’t for his dog, he probably wouldn’t have slept in the entirety of December, but Vicchan’s soft, warm body next to his lulled him to sleep every night, without mistake. He’d never been so happy to have him there.

His short program was... lackluster. He received decent scores, which was probably the only reason he didn’t break down the second he left the kiss and cry. Even though his coach stayed with him during the night to try and control his panic, he didn’t sleep as much as he should’ve. He still did relatively well in his free skate: he earned a personal best, and even though he didn’t make the podium, the fact that he was barely two points behind the bronze medalist soothed the edge of the loss. He didn’t make it to the Four Continents or the Worlds, and he knew he wouldn’t qualify for the Grand Prix series either, which basically gave him almost an entire year to step up his game.

He knew could do better. He had to.

The first half of the year flew by him in a wink. They decreased his visits to the neighboring city to three times a week again, so he had time to catch up on his studies. This allowed him to spend a little more time with the Nishigoris and his family. He also got to visit Minako’s studio once a week and practice with her again, and to top it all off, the Ice Castle allowed him to use the rink even after regular hours, so he could have some practice time completely alone. Skating all on his own, without anyone there to make comments or watch him was something that helped him find his center again.

He took the time to learn Viktor’s new free skate. He had to modify some of the jumps, as his only quad was still the toe loop, but the routine looked more or less like that of the Russian skater’s. It felt comfortable and soothing and safe.

Yuuko gave birth to Axel, Lutz and Loop in early June. He visited them a few times, but as they’ve started working on programs with his coach, his timetable started getting busier and busier again, so he didn’t spend as much time with them as he should have. He tried not to think about it. He focused on attempting to learn the quad Salchow instead. It seemed like a more beneficial use of his time, even if they ended up excluding it from his programs.

The competitive season was upon him too fast for him to truly worry about it: by the time he realized what was happening, it was his eighteenth birthday, and he was only a month away from the Nationals. He didn’t need all his friends and family telling him how different he seemed to be from last year. He felt it himself. There was a determination he didn’t have last year, because the nerves killed it before it was born. This time around, however, he wanted to prove himself. He was eighteen now. He had about ten short years left of his career, and he was heavily falling behind his age group. Most famous figure skaters already skated in at least one tiny international competition by his age, and here he was, not even capable of making it past the Japanese Nationals. He had to do better than this if he ever wanted to reach Viktor.

The competition came and went in what seemed like a few hours. He travelled to Nagano, skated his short program, went to sleep, got up, skated his free skate – both programs ended up being his new personal bests –, and suddenly, as he was in the middle of an interview, the news rushed in: the last skater is done; Yuuri Katsuki takes home the gold medal.

Standing at the top of the podium was a breath-taking experience. The only reason he didn’t cry was that he fought the tears valiantly, not willing to let the entire skating world see how emotional he was. But it was amazing. At that moment, standing in the middle between two older, more experienced and known skaters who have easily beaten him in competition last year, he felt like he could, indeed, do this.

The true meaning of his victory didn’t sink in until a seemingly innocent question from a reporter.

“How do you feel about qualifying for the Four Continents and World Championships?”

He qualified for the Worlds.

He was going to skate against Viktor Nikiforov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that concludes chapter one! Let me know your thoughts in the comments ^^ 
> 
> Updates are every Saturday evening, 6-7 p.m. CEST :)
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


	2. On Transparent Costumes and Poisonous Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor skate at the World Championships, and Yuuri makes a shocking discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a bit early, since I have to work in the afternoon (my work schedule is a bit more frantic than I thought it would be, heh), but here it is! Thank you for the kudos and comments on the previous chapter, and I hope you'll enjoy this one as well ^^

“Yuuri. Yuuri. Yuuri, you need to calm down.”

Souma-sensei’s voice barely made it through to Yuuri. He was not entirely sure how his coach expected him to be calm: it took him three rounds of breathing exercises to leave his hotel room that morning. Logically, he knew the reason behind his bewilderment: he was nervous at the Four Continents too, yes, but he fought his way up to fourth, again, almost to the podium. There, he could manage his nerves. However, as he was waiting to get onto the ice for warm up here... well, let’s just say that Viktor Nikiforov stretching at an arm’s length of him made him want to squeal and break down crying at the same time.

“Yuuri” his coach called again, shaking his shoulder a bit. The touch helped him snap out of it: he took a shaky breath, nodded, and, leaning on his coach, got rid of his blade guards. He was being ridiculous. Just because Viktor was here, he didn’t have to be a stumbling mess who can’t even step on the ice for warm up.

“Yuuri, I’d like to ask you not to practice any jumps in the warm up” Souma-sensei said quietly. Yuuri lost his balance. What?!

“But-“

“No. You are disoriented. If you fall in the next six minutes, you’ll lose all confidence, you know that. Go through your spins instead.” Yuuri stared at him for one more moment, and then nodded tightly.

Judging by the look on Ichigawa’s face, he knew perfectly well that Yuuri didn’t intend to listen to him. He felt a little bit bad about it, but he need to show himself that he was still capable of doing his jumps, and this need was a lot stronger than his unease upon disregarding his coach’s advice. As he followed the others to the ice, he tried to take a couple more deep breaths. He could do this. He couldn’t fail, not here, not with the entire world... not with  _Viktor_  watching. The same thoughts that had haunted him on his way to his first Nationals were upon him again. What would happen if he failed here? Would he leave the Worlds in complete humiliation? Would everyone realize that his placing at the Nationals was just some form of a mistake, some laughable stroke of good fortune?

He took another deep breath. Focus, Yuuri. Focus. Short program. Sit spin. Go. Okay, good. Now the step sequence. Good, good, just like that. Let’s try a triple axel, just to see if you’ve still got it.

Crap.

Getting up from the ice took an enormous amount of strength. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, judging him, thinking, whispering about how unskilled and clumsy he is, compared to everyone else. If this happens again during his SP, he’ll never live it down, he thought. He skated around, trying to slow his pounding heart, focusing on the feel of the ice beneath his feet and the cool air around him. After two minutes, he tried the triple axel again, and even though he stumbled a bit, he landed it this time.

“Gentlemen, your warm up has ended. Please leave the ice.”

He could see Souma-sensei’s expression even without his glasses on. He wasn’t happy. That was starting to become a Thing.

“I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t supposed to practice jumps” he started as soon as he was off the ice, but Ichigawa dismissed him with a shake of his head.

“It doesn’t matter now. But don’t forget, you are perfectly capable of landing the jumps in your program. The triple axel is your specialty. Pull yourself together for the short program, and it will be fine.” Yuuri nodded ardently, trying to will himself to believe that. He kept “what if I can’t” and “what if I fail” to himself.

While waiting for the first two skaters to finish, he focused on breathing exercises, attempting to forget about everything around him. He loved these programs. He could pull them off just the way he wanted them. He wasn’t trying to win here, he wasn’t hoping for titles, he was simply trying to show the figure skating world that he was worth a second glance. Something much easier to accomplish, something he would be capable of doing.

“Representing Japan: Yuuri Katsuki” the voice boomed through the loudspeakers. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat as he stepped on the ice.

There were too many people in the stadium. He took a deep breath and assumed his starting position in the middle of the ice. He could feel himself shaking slightly. This wasn’t going to be a personal best.

_Calm down. Calm down. Okay, here comes the first jump..._

He got through the program. The triple in his quad-triple combination turned into a double, and he stumbled on his triple Salchow, but he got all the rotations in, so at least they wouldn’t downgrade the jump. He was truly relieved when it was over. It could’ve gone a lot worse. He waved to the crowd and the judges, picked up a bouquet and skated to the kiss and cry.

“Good job, Yuuri. You did well” Souma-sensei smiled at him. Part of him wanted to argue over the combination and the Salchow, but a different, much bigger part of him was so happy it was over he’d decided to let it go.

His scores turned out good in the end. Even though his technical score wasn’t that pretty, his performance score was just as high as it was during the Nationals. He was saved from completely humiliating himself in front of the entire world. Still, the thought that he could’ve done better didn’t cease bothering him.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Viktor stepping on the ice, and truly hated their assignments: he really wanted to watch him perform. This might be the only time he’ll ever get to skate on the same ice as him, and he won’t even be able to see it? But his coach urged him toward the horde of reporters waiting for him to give his interview, so after a last wishful look at the glorious figure on the ice, he turned to walk away.

***

That evening was completely nerve-wracking. He just wanted to go to bed as soon as he could, but he knew that if he fell asleep too early, he’d wake up at an ungodly hour the next day and would have too much time to freak himself out before the competition. He was giddy with nerves, but he didn’t want to leave his hotel room for fear of running into Viktor – or anyone for that matter –, so he ended up pacing up and down his room for an hour before trying to distract himself by reading a book.

He tried to focus, he really did, but his mind was too restless. After twenty minutes of trying – and failing – to read a single chapter, he gave up, and resigned to channel surfing on the hotel TV. He didn’t understand a word of it, of course: since the championship was in Moscow, all the channels were in Russian. He caught Viktor’s name on one of the channels and lingered there for a bit. It was a recap of today’s competition.

The reporters were explaining something in Russian, probably analyzing the performance. He didn’t understand them, but he didn’t need any commentary for Viktor’s skating: he knew it all too well.

Well, not these routines, actually. He was so busy with his own season that he didn’t have time to examine the top skater’s programs. He knew that Viktor broke his own world record at the Grand Prix Finals with his short program (true, only by a couple of points, but still), and he knew that he had won five gold medals so far this season, but he only got glimpses at the actual performances themselves. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to go home and try to learn them, to get to know them like every other routine Viktor had skated before.

He felt some remorse as he watched the SP. This was the same program that broke a world record earlier this year, and he had to miss it, just because he had to give stupid interviews. Thankfully, Viktor would be skating right before him the next day, so he’d get to see his performance. Not so thankfully, Viktor would be skating right before him the next day, so he’d look absolutely pathetic in comparison.

The questions returned as he was watched Viktor land the quad flip. What would happen if he messed up tomorrow? Would it kill his entire career? He was eighteen and he was just beginning to become a competitive skater, what if he flubbed so badly nobody would ever want to see him skate again? And even if he didn’t... could he ever compare to Viktor Nikiforov? Could he ever be more than just another mediocre skater in the shadow of the living legend of figure skating?

Sighing, he turned the TV off. This was exactly what he was trying to get his mind off of. After another ten minutes of trying – and failing – to read the chapter in his book, he picked up the phone, and called the only person he dared to turn to with his nerves going crazy.

“Yuuri, what the hell, it’s midnight over here” Mari grumbled as she picked up the phone.

“I-I’m sorry” Yuuri stumbled over his words. “I just...” he trailed off. He didn’t really know what he wanted to say. He sort of trusted his sister to figure that out for him.

“You’re freaking out, eh?” she asked, sounding slightly more awake.

“N-no!” Yuuri protested weakly. His sister laughed quietly.

“That was very convincing, Yuuri.” He could hear her grinning through the phone. “I’m surprised you handled it this far. After you fell in warm up, we were all sure you’d freak out so much you wouldn’t recover. And then you’ve surprised us all and ended up in such a nice position! You’re what, fifth?”

“Fourth. I’m not sure…” Yuuri sighed and shook his head. “Souma-sensei told me not to do the jumps during warm up, but I was scared I couldn’t do them anymore, so I tried anyway” he admitted sheepishly. “He looked angry. I feel so disrespectful when I don’t listen to him.”

“But you still don’t” she pointed out, making Yuuri laugh. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, little brother” she added. There was a minute of silence.

“How’s Vicchan?” Yuuri asked.

“He got into the onsen today. Mama was beside herself, especially because he pooped in the garden. Luckily not the bath itself” she laughed. “Your poor doggie got himself a smack on the head, and he’s not getting any leftovers for a few days. Personally I think it’ll do him some good to live on dog food for a bit, he’s getting really fat, Yuuri. You’re giving him too many scraps” she scolded him.

“But he’s such a good boy, Mari! He deserves all the scraps” Yuuri grinned. “Well, when he doesn’t poop in the onsen” he furrowed his brows. After a beat, both of them started laughing.

“You should’ve seen mama’s face, Yuuri!”

Yuuri could imagine his mother’s face perfectly when she discovered Vicchan anywhere near the baths. He had no idea how his poodle even got in there; he always made sure Vicchan couldn’t bother the guests in the dining room and the baths. Maybe someone left a door open that he had always paid attention to closing. Whatever had happened, he had to admit that Vicchan deserved the smack his mother had given him.

“I’m sure he’ll be all over you when you get home. He sleeps in your bed every night. We tried locking him out, but he whined until we opened the door for him” Mari told him. “That dog is as much in love with you as you are with him.”

Yuuri laughed. He did miss Vicchan when he was away on competitions, and it was even worse now that he was on a different continent.

“I can’t wait to see him again when this is over” he smiled, then frowned. Before it would be over, he would have to get through his free skate tomorrow.

“We’re cheering for you, Yuuri” she said. He nodded quietly, not realizing she couldn’t see him. He wasn’t sure it made him feel better. The entire world watching him fail was one thing – the people who had believed in his skating seeing him mess up was another. Sometimes he longed for the days when people around him didn’t take his dream of becoming a competitive skater seriously. There was a lot less pressure back then.

“Yuuri?” Mari asked, slight worry slipping into her tone.

“Yes, sorry, I got distracted” he laughed nervously, hoping she wouldn’t call out his lie. She didn’t.

“Well, best of luck to you then, little brother.”

“Thanks, Mari. I... I’ll... I’ll do my best.” The momentary silence on the other end of the phone made it obvious that his sister saw through him in a second, but decided not to push it. After a quick goodbye, Yuuri lowered his phone, staring at the empty space in front of him.

They’d all be watching. Everyone. His family and friends at home, hoping to see him rise through the skating ranks, looking for proof that these past years hadn’t been in vain, the judges and figure skating fans here, scrutinizing his every move, looking for mistakes, looking for the tell-tale signs of a skater without true talent. He didn’t know if he could live up to the expectations. Worse than that, he didn’t know what to do if he didn’t. He had no idea how he was going to face his family if he left here in shame. He didn’t have a clue what to tell the reporters if he messed up his free skate. He had no idea how he could ever look at Viktor again if he failed.

It always came back to Viktor, didn’t it? The older skater had barely even acknowledged him. They were yet to talk to each other directly, and that was just the thing, wasn’t it? Viktor didn’t have to notice someone like him. He was just another skater that was no threat to him and his titles and his place on top of the podium. Of course Viktor wouldn’t notice him. He was a nobody.

He huffed in frustration. It would still be a couple of hours before he was supposed to go to sleep. In the end he’d decided to take a long, hot bath, hoping that it would distract him from his frantic mind.

***

The second day of competition brought with it even worse nerves than before. He was forbidden from jumps in the warm up again, and he ignored it again. He didn’t manage to land a single triple. He could barely even hear Ichigawa’s attempts at calming him. He was going to skate second to last, between Viktor and Christophe, so at least he had some time. Not that it had helped much. Minako-sensei did her best to help his coach calm Yuuri’s nerves, but it wasn’t going too amazingly. In no time, they were heading back to the rink, because even through the haze of anxiety, Yuuri insisted that he needs to see Viktor’s free skate.

The Russian skater was laughing at his coach when they’d arrived. The older man looked disgruntled, and when he saw Ichigawa, he grasped at the opportunity.

“Nice seeing you again” he greeted, stepping away from his protégé. Viktor cocked his head as he turned after his coach, trying to figure out who he was talking to.

“You as well” Souma-sensei smiled politely. “Mr. Nikiforov” he nodded toward the Russian skater. “Souma Ichigawa. Nice to meet you.”

“You too” Viktor replied with a brilliant smile and shook his hand. Yuuri felt like the breath was knocked right out of him. Viktor was too beautiful for his simple soul to handle. No human was supposed to look this godly. He was sure it was an insult to some form of deity.

“This is my student, Yuuri Katsuki” his coach went on, gesturing to Yuuri, who immediately adopted a caught in the headlights look.

“Hello, Yuuri.” Viktor was smiling at him this time. He was going to cry.

“H-h-h-hi” he stammered wildly, shaking the hand extended toward him with his own trembling fingers. He was hoping his palm wasn’t as sweaty as it felt.

“The scores for David Lloyd...”

Viktor smiled at them one more time.

“Well, I better get ready. Good luck, kid” he waved to Yuuri as he turned away and started unzipping his training jacket. He didn’t give him any time to react, so he just focused on steadying his breathing. Whatever happened next, at least he had Viktor’s attention for the span of a short minute.

What did happen next, however, he never could’ve foreseen.

He saw the costume Viktor used for his free skate before, but he’d only ever glimpsed at it. It was a beautiful mix of blue and green, complementing his eyes nicely, making him look even more like the flighty spirit he was trying to portray in his programs this year. He also knew, in theory, that the back of the costume was see-through in a V shape, broad on his shoulders and narrow by his hips. He had also noticed that in this particular setup, Viktor had his hair in a ponytail again, like he did in that first program he saw him perform on TV.

What he didn’t and couldn’t have known was that the costume showcased Viktor’s soulmark like it was made for that sole purpose.

What he also didn’t and couldn’t have known was that the second he laid eyes on the shape just below Viktor’s nape, he recognized it. That shape belonged to him.

The certainty of it made him gasp loudly. Somewhere on the periphery of his perception he could hear Ichigawa’s worried voice, but the only thing he could focus on was the mark. He knew without checking that it would fit perfectly inside his own, the sharp edges and the small circles filling out the empty place between the two soft shapes on his shoulder. He stumbled over to the wall of the rink, gripping the railing, watching with bated breath as the other man skated into the center of the ice. This magnificent skater was his soulmate. His and only his.

He was in a daze during the entire program, watching Viktor like he was dying of thirst and the Russian was the only source of water in the world. The only thought that reverberated inside his head was that Viktor Nikiforov was his soulmate. It was as if he was cut off from the rest of reality, like this discovery put a thick, impenetrable barrier around him, and the only thing getting through was Viktor. He watched unmoving until the second he stepped off the ice, grinning at his coach in celebration of another magnificently executed program.

“Yuuri, you’re up shortly, are you okay?” his coach asked for what was probably the umpteenth time in the past five minutes.

“Yes” he answered curtly, and as he unzipped his jacket, he could see what would best be described as shock on Souma’s face. Later, he would remember it and completely understand how surprising his sudden transformation from shaking with anxiety to complete confidence must have been, but in that moment, all he saw was his soulmark on Viktor’s body.

With it came the knowledge that the universe thought him and Viktor belonged together. That he was equal to Viktor himself.

“Representing Japan... Yuuri Katsuki!” the voice announced, and he slid on the ice, his mind empty of all the worries that had been plaguing him until the moment he saw Viktor. The moment he really saw him. He crouched on the ice, ready to begin his program.

And then, he danced with an ease he’d never had before in any competition.

The only time he could remember skating being this easy was when he was skating Viktor’s routines.

Viktor, Viktor, Viktor.

He landed his quad toe-loop. He wondered. It felt so easy, it came so naturally. He felt as though he was on top of the world, as though he could have anything he set his sights on. He wanted to medal here. He wanted to climb the podium. And if he could be Viktor Nikiforov’s soulmate, he could medal in the World Figure Skating Championships.

He landed an unplanned quad Salchow, recalculating the rest of his jumps on the flight. He landed his combinations. His triple axel was probably never this clean before. He felt as though he wasn’t even skating, he felt as though he was flying above the ice, ignoring the protest of his muscles as he pushed them further than he ever had, ignoring the crowd around him, because the only thing that mattered, that would ever truly matter, was Viktor and the pointy edges and small circles right under his nape.

It was over faster than he expected. He was smiling wildly, waving to the crowd, picking up a few things from the ice. He was still dazed, everything around him blurring together in a mash of colors, blinding, overwhelming. He sort of realized that this was the best program he’d ever skated, but it didn’t seem very important anymore.

His coach was staring at him in shock.

“Yuuri... I don’t know what that was, but I’m truly impressed” he said quietly as he handed him his blade guards. Yuuri grinned, still at a high from his discovery and his performance. It carried him through receiving his scores – an absolute personal best, he outdid himself by fifteen points –, the interviews, the congratulations. It was still ever-present as he made his way to the medal ceremony, approaching Viktor and Chris. He won silver, surpassing Christophe by two and a half points. And Viktor Nikiforov was his soulmate.

“There he is” Chris grinned when he noticed him. “What a sneaky newcomer. I barely even realized what happened, and you snatched silver right from under my nose!”

Yuuri laughed, a bit embarrassed. Viktor smiled at them, fingers playing with his hair.

“Congratulations. To be honest, you looked so skittish before my free skate I didn’t expect you to do so well. I didn’t see it, but Chris told me I absolutely have to re-watch it later” he said, prompting Yuuri to blush.

“W-well... I did my best” he answered truthfully, but not really focused, too busy trying not to stare. Part of him was eager to shrug his costume off right then and there, show his mark to Viktor, or at least touch Viktor’s own, wondering if that electric joy upon touch that people always talked about really exists, or just say something, anything, tell him how it was all because of him, because he  _knew..._

However, Yuuri knew it wasn’t the time. He would have to wait until they get back to the hotel, he couldn’t just present something like this to him in public. No, he’d have to talk with him privately. Maybe change into a short-sleeved shirt that would make it easier for him to show off his own mark, so that Viktor could recognize him like he’d recognized Viktor... He would have to find out what room he’s in, but that can’t be that hard, can it? And maybe–

“Yuuri, you should be heading out there” Chris poked his side, and he realized belatedly that while he was daydreaming, his name was called and he was supposed to go and take his place next to Viktor on the podium. He was going to stand next to Viktor on the podium! He skated around the rink, giddy smile on his face, waving to the crowd.

This time, he was aware of their existence: they clapped and he could hear some of them shout his name, and he saw a couple of Japanese flags in the audience. He knew Minako was somewhere among them, probably waving a flag, shouting his name. He also recalled Mari’s voice from last night. They were sitting in front of the TV, cheering him on during his free skate, and his parents must be so happy to see that all his training amounted to something. He hoped the Nishigoris watched it too, saw him claim a silver medal in the most important competition he’d even participated in. He climbed to the second spot on the podium, momentarily distracted by Viktor’s shining smile and radiant beauty.

He had to stop himself from climbing up next to him and running his fingers over his soulmark, showing everyone who exactly he was and what exactly he and Viktor were to each other, and who Viktor really belonged to.

The ceremony was over in a whirlwind, and then there was press, interviews, further congratulations, what felt like a thousand photos, some with Viktor looping his long arm over his shoulders, and by the time it was over, Yuuri felt like he was about to fall over. The stress from earlier, the emotional height he was thrown into by his discovery, the program he skated, the fussing of the press, it all wore him down more than he expected. As soon as he finally got to change out of his costume, he started stumbling, and he had to will himself to stand upright at least until he got into the taxi.

Soulmates momentarily forgotten, he fell asleep as soon as he took the backseat in the car. The hotel was a fifteen minutes’ car ride from the stadium, so his quick nap only made him groggy and disoriented. The weight of what happened earlier didn’t return to him until he was once again alone in his hotel room. The realization that he could finally,  _finally_  go see Viktor and tell him everything pushed him back into the energized, giddy, distraught state that he was in ever since he saw the mark. He took a quick, cold shower to wake himself up, pulled some clothes on, and turned to leave the room when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

They say the higher you soar, the bigger the eventual fall is. And it was enormous. Because as he noticed his disheveled hair, his baggy, slightly smelly training clothes and his crooked glasses in the mirror, the reality of who he was came crashing down on him.

He was just... him.

Yuuri stood in front of the mirror, suddenly frozen, an army of poisonous thoughts assaulting him mercilessly.

He never even would’ve gotten the silver medal sitting on his hotel bed if it wasn’t for the surge of energy he got from Viktor. He would’ve crashed and burned, because on his own, he never had the strength to perform like that. He wasn’t a skating legend, not like Viktor. He had some talent, maybe, but even that was just born from all the grueling work he did, he wasn’t a prodigy, not like Viktor. Viktor, who was the big name, the skater everyone knew and adored. He was a brightly shining star in the world of figure skating, and even when he retired one day, he would remain to be so. He was one of – if not  _the_  – greatest figure skater to have ever lived.

His frantically beating heart seemed to be pounding even harder than before, and breathing somehow seemed like a very complicated thing to do. The oxygen from the sharp little breaths he took didn’t seem to actually make its way to his lungs, and it seemed like everything just became unbearably loud.

Him, compared to Viktor… Outside of skating, it was even worse. Viktor was the epitome of beauty, body perfectly sculpted even in the off season, where he was prone to gaining weight, the memory of his eating habits criss-crossing the sides of his stomach and his thighs in the form of stretch marks. Viktor was polite and generous to his fans, where Yuuri’s last encounter with a fan was so awkward he felt nauseous thinking about it. Viktor was all brilliant smiles and energy, where Yuuri was grumpy and constantly tired. Viktor was amazing with people, always surrounded by crowds of admirers, where Yuuri was always lonely, pushing everyone away with his slightly antisocial ways.

He was in no way or form deserving of Viktor. The universe must be mistaken.

He stared at himself for what seemed like hours. Very soon, his vision became blurry, and he stopped actually seeing anything but his own tears, trying to swallow the burning disappointment, breathing as hard as if he had just ran a marathon. What had he been thinking? Viktor might be his soulmate, but that in itself doesn’t mean anything. Viktor would never be happy that it was him. A little mouse, shaking with anxiety while he was waiting for his turn to perform, a mediocre skater who only did well in sudden bursts of luck, a quiet, awkward person who couldn’t flirt to save his life. He would probably laugh at him and turn him away.

Maybe he didn’t care about soulmates at all; he was famous and amazing, he had everything he ever could’ve asked for. Why would he want Yuuri when he could have anyone? He was a dime a dozen sort of person, and on top of all that, he lived thousands of miles from him. Even if Viktor could ever settle for someone as ordinary as him, he wouldn’t go all the way to Japan just for settling’s sake. There was nothing about him that would make him appealing, the best choice, or even just a good one.

The statistical likelihood of finding one's soulmate was lower than ten percent. Yuuri understood this long before he even knew what statistics or percentages were. People reassured kids all the time that finding your soulmate wasn't the only way to be happy in life.

Nobody had ever mentioned that finding your soulmate doesn't necessarily mean a happy ending either.

He cried himself to sleep long hours later.

***

He wasn’t exactly eager on attending the banquet. The gala was torture enough, even though he excluded all jumps from his exhibition piece. It never involved too many, just some basic singles and doubles, but he didn’t want anyone to see him fall after what happened at the free skate the previous day. He was quite certain his emotional breakdown still showed to some extent, but at least it didn’t look completely like his silver medal was just a fluke.

The banquet was a million times worse. During the gala, he didn’t have to see Viktor, but at the banquet, he’d be expected to mingle, talk to people, and there would probably be people who want more photos of him and the Russian skater together. He felt sick just from the thought of having to face Viktor again. But there was no way around it: he was a medalist; not showing up at the banquet would’ve been seen as either extremely rude or extremely uppish.

His plan of sticking close to his coach and avoiding all other skaters went pretty well for most of the evening. Viktor was constantly in somebody else’s company anyway: press, sponsors, other skaters, everyone wanted a chance to talk to him. Everyone except for Yuuri, who knew he wouldn’t be able to speak a word without bursting out in tears.

He was just considering sneaking off from his coach and getting his hands on a glass of champagne in hope it eases his pain somewhat – only Ichigawa would’ve minded, he was above the legal drinking age in most of Europe –, when yet another man stepped in front of them. He recognized him as Celestino Cialdini, a renowned American coach. He was here with... Daniel? David? Yuuri wasn’t sure.

“Hello, nice to meet you” he grinned at both of them, shaking Souma’s hand, then Yuuri’s. “I’m Celestino Cialdini. I coach in Detroit” he said, obviously directed to Yuuri. The boy nodded with some confusion. Putting aside the fact that he was very much aware of who the man was, he wasn’t entirely certain why he was talking to them.

“I saw your performance, Yuuri. Can I call you Yuuri?” He nodded hesitantly, prompting the man to continue. “It was quite brilliant, I think nobody expected you to shine this brightly. This is your first season in international competition, right?”

“Yes. I, uh, didn’t make the cut last year” he admitted with some embarrassment. He didn’t add how his gold at the Nationals this year and his silver here both seemed more like some sort of unexpected stroke of luck than anything else. How maybe that was what he really was, a fourth at best, sometimes lucking his way to the podium.

“Well, I’d say this is quite a brilliant debut” Celestino smiled at him. “Listen, I don’t know whether you are planning on staying in Japan, but if you’d ever consider training in America... here” he said, handing him a business card. Yuuri had to do his absolute best not to gape at him, heartbreak and all momentarily forgotten. What was happening?

“We have contracts with multiple colleges and universities in Detroit who offer tutelage for aspiring athletes, including figure skaters. I would be very happy to coach someone like yourself, and you could do your degree there. Of course I’m certain you will be receiving other offers, but I was hoping I would be the first to try and net you for myself” he winked. Yuuri had no idea how to react. Did Cialdini just offer to train him in Detroit? Was he being serious?

“I’m sure Yuuri is grateful for the offer” Souma-sensei chipped in, trying to snap him out of his gaping. It worked – his coach was very good at grounding him –, and he started nodding.

“Y-yes, o-of course. Thank you!”

“Thank you, for considering” Celestino smiled. “Call or e-mail me if you’ve made up your mind or if you need more information. I understand that this would be a big decision, so take as much time as you need.” They shook hands once more, and the American coach headed back to his skater to accompany him in what looked like talking to a sponsor.

“What... what just happened?” Yuuri turned to Ichigawa, waiting for some form of an explanation. The man chuckled and shook his head.

“You awed the audience yesterday, Yuuri. You surprised them, you showed off your potential. I’m quite certain, just like coach Celestino, that you are about to receive multiple offers. If you listen to me, you pick coach Celestino, unless coach Yakov gives you an offer, although that’s highly unlikely. He almost exclusively trains Russian skaters, and his hands are quite full with Nikiforov” he laughed quietly. Yuuri just blinked, trying to rationalize what was happening somehow. Apparently he managed to trick half the world into thinking he was some sort of a prodigy.

“But...”

“I don’t want you to finish that sentence, Yuuri. As soon as it’s out of your mouth, you’ll believe it. You did exceptionally well in your free skate, and  _that_  is what you are truly capable of. I think you should seize this opportunity to grow out of the small town skater you used to be” his coach advised him. Yuuri didn’t want to argue with him, even though he knew he wasn’t right. He didn’t know the whole story. Still, maybe... maybe...

“Yuuri, come join us for a photo!” he heard Christophe’s voice from the other end of the banquet hall. He gulped, set his mouth in a determined line, and headed toward the other medalists through the crowd. This evening was never going to be over.

***

Arriving back to Hasetsu was better than he thought it’d be. Minako-sensei was home a day earlier, so she came to get him from the train station. He was glad he didn’t have to deal with his luggage alone. Even though it was just a few days, he had to pack a lot of things. Thankfully nothing got lost on the way there or back.

Arriving back to Yu-topia, on the other hand, was just as perfect as he imagined it. Vicchan was the first at the door when he got there, jumping all over him, scrambling at his feet, barking in excitement, trying to climb him to get close enough to his face in order to lick it. He picked him up and hugged him for as long as he dared without risking to start crying. His mother made him katsudon, claiming that silver at the Worlds more than qualified as winning in her book, Mari ruffled his hair with more affection than usual, and his dad asked for his medal immediately to showcase it in the dining room. Once the celebration died down, he finally got to hide away in his room with Vicchan.

Sitting down on his bed, finally having a moment of peace and quiet to himself, all the pain rushed back at him.

It didn’t help that basically every inch of the walls was covered in Viktor’s face. He could’ve taken that; much before he was his soulmate, Viktor was his idol, the main reason behind his skating. What he couldn’t deal with was the old drawing of his soulmark right next to one of the posters. Desperate tears started running down his cheeks as soon as he laid eyes on it, and then he was across the room and tore the drawing off the wall. He couldn’t get himself to be truly angry at Viktor – it wasn’t his fault – but he was angry at the universe that thought ruining him like this would be fun. He ripped the paper into tiny pieces, then sank onto the floor.

Vicchan was right beside him, whining quietly, trying to figure out what happened, trying to calm his upset master. Yuuri opened his arms for the dog, hugging him close, sobbing loudly into his fur. He’d been crying more in the past two days than ever in his life, which was saying something, but he couldn’t seem to stop. The tears just kept coming, his heart breaking over and over, his mind trying to accept what had happened. That he’d found his soulmate just to realize he could never have him.

The days were dragging by infuriatingly slowly in the following couple of weeks. Regardless of World Championships and soulmates and heartbreak he was in his last year of secondary school, and he would have to make a decision shortly. He did receive some more offers during and after the banquet, but Celestino’s was undoubtedly the best. Once he more or less pulled himself together – hours of nightly crying notwithstanding –, he started talking to his parents about the offers, and about the Detroit training in particular.

The opportunity to train under Celestino Cialdini was quite an amazing one, and after some further inquiries, it seemed that it wasn’t even the most expensive offer he got. Of course, paying Celestino would cost his family a lot, and he was already feeling uncomfortable with that thought, but living in the university dorms wasn’t horribly costly, and his tuition fees would be completely covered by the state of Michigan. It was the chance of a lifetime. Yuuri knew he couldn’t miss it, even if he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

He called Celestino at the end of May, telling him that he wanted to take his offer and move to Detroit from next August. He passed on the Grand Prix series – even though he did qualify this year, he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it – but agreed to compete in the Japanese Nationals, and wherever that would take him after, He was far from sure he’d make it to the 4Cs or the Worlds in the next season, but he kept that to himself. He kept training on his own for his remaining time in Japan, saying farewell to Souma-sensei, who expressed that he was very happy that he was moving his career along, and that he could help him on his journey this far. Yuuri himself still felt inadequate and as though he didn’t deserve any of what was about to happen to him, and still cried himself to sleep hugging Vicchan every night, but he’d made up his mind.

This opportunity was just like having Viktor Nikiforov for a soulmate. He didn’t deserve it, but he could still try to make the most of it. He had to try and follow in the footsteps of his soulmate, and he had to try and prove that his victories in the previous season weren’t just about luck. He knew that if he didn’t, he’d have to admit defeat and retire from skating in humiliation, and that was something he wasn’t willing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed the chapter :) Let me know your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> See you again next Saturday ^^
> 
> P.S.: I forgot to link it last time, but you can also find me on [my YoI blog on tumblr](http://yoitookovermylife.tumblr.com)!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri moves to Detroit, and fights... well, mostly himself, for a place at the World Championships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 aka the only chapter I couldn't think of a title for, no matter how hard I tried T.T (I'm not actually very good at titles...)  
> Thank you for the kudos and comments on the previous chapter <3  
> Enjoy~

The first week in Detroit was, well, hell. Literal, actual, real-life hell.

No, he wasn’t being dramatic. Everything that can possibly go wrong when moving from one country to another did. Lost baggage? Check. Getting lost? Check. Administrative issues? Check. Top this all off with jetlag, and you have Yuuri Katsuki’s first day in Detroit. He was almost sleepwalking by the time the administrative problems with his dorm room got settled, so when he finally got there, he collapsed on the bed without as much as changing and slept until the next morning.

The next morning didn’t bring much relief. The only luggage he still had with him was the one he took on board with him, and while it did contain clothes for about two days, when he checked in with the airport, they told him his things would only arrive by the end of the week, which presented him with several problems. First off, he didn’t have clothes to wear for seven days, so he had to go shopping in a city he knew nothing about. Clothes shopping at that. Second, he was supposed to go to the rink in two days to start practice with Celestino, but his skates were halfway over the world. Yes, of course, there were always rental skates, but he’d jump off the closest bridge before putting one of those monstrosities on his feet. Third, all of this threw him into a series of panic attacks, and it took him all afternoon to put himself relatively together.

On the third day, he finally went shopping (he got lost four times, cursed the entire country ten times by the time he finally got back to his room) and texted Celestino, trying to explain what happened with his bags and asking him to give him this week off. Of course his coach felt it necessary to call him for further explanation, so he had to answer a phone call, which didn’t make his day any better.

He spent the fourth and fifth day (Saturday and Sunday) in his dorm room, sobbing into his pillow, contemplating whether or not it was too late to go back to Hasetsu and forget about all of this.

On the sixth day, he handled his university papers, and cleaned out his room, then, feeling gloriously accomplished even in spite of all the anxiety that came with administration, spent the rest of his day playing on his laptop.

A week after he got to Detroit, the airport finally phoned him, informing him that the rest of his bags have arrived. He thought he was going to cry with relief when he was told he could go get his things. He ended up having to ask Celestino for help, as he couldn’t really handle all of his baggage alone, but his coach was very much willing to help him out. He promised he’d show up at the rink the next day in return, now that his skates were finally here. (He did a lot of stress eating during the past week, and it was already starting to show. Damn his metabolism. He really needed to start working out again.)

In short, his first week was hell.

But things started getting better after that. He settled in a bit better and started mentally preparing himself that with the summer over, he’d have a roommate living with him. He got to know the nearby parts of the city quite well, and tried to accommodate himself to the big city life. The rink was relatively close to the dorms, so he didn’t have to spend long hours on public transport, but it took him some experimenting to figure out the best way to get there. He walked around on campus a lot, learning the place so he wouldn’t get lost all the time once the classes have started.

Learning to work with Celestino was a challenge he didn’t really expect. He’d only ever been truly coached by Ichigawa, and he was quite a strict person. Celestino was very different. He had an easy-going personality and an approachable vibe to him, but Yuuri wasn’t really sure how to handle that. Apparently Celestino wasn’t absolutely sure how to handle Yuuri either: one day, he’d dictate every second of his practice time, the other, he’d leave him completely in charge. Yuuri supposed the man was trying to figure out what method he’d respond to in the best way, but he didn’t really like either. Ichigawa was very good at reading him: somehow he always knew when to instruct him, and when to let him work in his own pace. Celestino wasn’t really getting that in the beginning, and it made Yuuri a bit unsure of what to expect.

***

“Yuuri, take a break.”

Yuuri huffed. He’d been practicing his quad toe loop, but his mind was wandering, and he was having a hard time landing it. He was certain he could do it if he tried just one more time...

“Yuuri.”

With a sigh, he glided to the edge of the rink, grabbing his blade guards and stepping off the ice. Celestino shook his head at him with a thoughtful frown.

“Come here for a second” he waved. Yuuri grabbed his water bottle and waddled over to the man, feeling a bit shaky on his skates. Celestino nodded for him to sit down, and took a seat next to him.

“Yuuri, why are you pushing yourself so hard?” he asked, scrutinizing his face. Yuuri blushed a bit with embarrassment and opted to gulp down some water instead of answering. Celestino, apparently figuring he wouldn’t get an answer, continued with a sigh.

“Look, I already saw that you are quite the skater. You don’t need to push yourself over the edge to prove anything. I wouldn’t have offered to train you if I doubted you had talent” he explained, making Yuuri frown.

“Huh?” he blinked in confusion. Celestino raised his eyebrows, taken aback.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing? You’ve attempted the quad toe loop at least twelve times by now, and yes, you couldn’t land it today, but I know you can, I’ve seen you do it before.”

“I- W- I’m not!” Yuuri exclaimed, now blushing furiously. “That’s not why I’m doing it!”

“Then why?” Celestino asked curiously, obviously trying to understand him. Yuuri sighed, turning toward the ice. Souma-sensei never asked him hard questions like this, he just figured it out for himself. Celestino was very different indeed.

“I...” he trailed off. He never tried to put it into words. And thinking about it, the only things that popped into mind seemed so... embarrassing to say out-loud. He didn’t know how to admit that he’d been staring up at posters of Viktor Nikiforov half his life, hoping and striving to be at his level. He wasn’t sure how to word his expectations toward himself. He wanted to make a name for himself in the figure skating world, he wanted to become a champion, a legend, like his soulmate... but even the thought of saying these things made him shudder. If he said things like that, he could never take them back. They would become expectations, ones he’d undoubtedly fail. They were just empty hopes, after all. He could never get there. He knew he couldn’t.

“Yuuri?” Celestino’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts. Right. He was waiting for an answer.

“S-sorry. Uh... I don’t really know how to explain” he shrugged, trying to play it down a bit, still not looking over at the man sitting next to him. “I just want to be better.”

“You don’t have to kill yourself in practice to do that, you know” his coach grinned, teasing, and a slight smile graced Yuuri’s face too, as he finally glanced at him.

“Souma-sensei always praised my stamina” he admitted. Celestino nodded.

“I suppose I better figure out how much you can handle. I’m not sure I can take your word for it” he winked, prompting a huff from the skater.

“Get back on the ice” he instructed, and then got up to help out one of the female skaters working on a jump. Yuuri sighed, taking one more sip, flexing his legs.

***

Day passed after day, week after week, filled with practice and exploration. September inched closer and closer with each new jump, with each new bruise on his feet, with each new discovery. He was determined to understand Detroit and the new life he would have here. America was confusing; the people were very different from those in Japan, and sometimes he bumped into things he couldn’t have explained even if he tried. The culture shock was still deeply woven into his days by the time his roommate arrived.

He was the quiet sort, keeping to himself even more than Yuuri. His name was Jordan; he was short and thin, with brown, curly hair and bushy eyebrows. Every time they were in the room together, Yuuri wanted to die from the awkward tension in the air. He didn’t know how to initiate conversation, and the way they tiptoed around each other was incredibly exhausting for him. He expected someone who would try to drag him into all sorts of university shenanigans, not someone who only exited the dorms when he had to go to class, so all his preparation was for naught. He was left with no clue as to how to handle the roommate situation.

Speaking of classes, university started up as well. Not that he had enough problems or anything. In spite of all of his efforts, he got lost a couple of times during the first week. He had good and bad professors; he had fellow students he took a liking to, and some he could tell he wouldn’t like. He didn’t put much effort into talking to anyone, however; his life was being quite hectic, and there were so many things happening, there was only so much he could do without overwhelming himself. Moving at the beginning of August seemed like an absolutely amazing idea in retrospect: if he was still completely new to everything when university started, he probably would’ve given up in a week and ran back to Japan on the first opportunity that presented itself.

September passed as fast as it arrived: in no time, Celestino and him started working on routines, deeming it timely to start getting ready for the Nationals. They still had plenty of time, but Celestino would be busier once the GPS started, since he had a male and a female skater in the bracket. Also, Yuuri needed the time. If he wanted a chance to participate in the 4Cs or the Worlds, he had to prove he was the same skater as last year, but he knew it was going to be hard. Last year, he was on a high, his programs were his favorites ever, not to mention the flash of brilliance that earned him silver at the Worlds.  Reproducing that seemed impossible. He had to medal at the Nationals in order to have his season last for longer than late December, but he wasn’t certain how he was going to do it, and that uncertainty left him vulnerable to his nerves.

He gave Celestino full control over his programs, with absolutely no input on the music or the choreography. Not that he normally choreographed his own programs or usually picked the music completely on his own, but what little control he used to keep over them was completely abandoned. He nodded along with both musical choices, even though he wasn’t a big fan of the SP music and didn’t have any particular feelings about the free skate. For one, he was worried about trying to overrule Celestino, since he had no idea whether it would be okay for him to argue with his choices; two, he was also doubting his own ability to pick music or have a say in the choreography, and because this season was going to be a rocky ride anyway, he thought it would be better to trust his programs to a professional.

The nerves reached a peak around mid-October. He wasn’t feeling his programs, Celestino was focusing on the skaters who were going to participate in the Grand Prix, he had nowhere to hide away for a good hour of crying that could’ve lifted some of the weight from his shoulders, his roommate and him were still terribly awkward around each other, he didn’t have Vicchan to calm him down so he was losing sleep and he was behind on his university work. He felt as though he was on a downward slope, rapidly sliding lower and lower with nothing to hold on to.

The only thing that kept him from spiraling into a complete breakdown was that Skate America was coming up, and Viktor was skating in it. The date in his calendar was literally the only bright light in the distance that kept him going.

***

He was sitting in his room, curled up with a blanket, biting his nails, staring at the live stream. This year’s competition was strong: many amazing skaters were fighting for a spot on the podium. Of course, the ultimate goal for all of them was to knock Viktor off the top, to earn gold when competing against him, but for most, it was an unrealistic dream.

He had to keep quiet in order not to bother his roommate, but it wasn’t easy when Viktor finally appeared on the ice. He was absolutely breath-taking: his costume was deep blue, embroidered with tiny, golden flowers, making him look even more royal than usual; his hair was tied into a bun on top of his head; his face was sprinkled with golden glitter, giving a regal look to his face, enhanced with a touch of makeup.

“Viktor Nikiforov, at the age of twenty-two, is already a legend in men’s singles. He surprises us every time, doesn’t he?”

“He does indeed! His theme this year is royalty, and looking at his costume, he’s keeping very well in touch with that theme.”

“Indeed. And, as an added bonus, apparently he has decided to keep showing off his soulmark. The back of the costume, if you look at it a bit more closely, you see...”

“Oh, yes. Well, as famous as Viktor is, this seems like quite a good plan to find his soulmate, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does!”

Sudden anger welled in Yuuri’s chest. Nobody had the right to see Viktor’s mark aside from him. It belonged to him, damn it, not the stupid commentators or the rest of Viktor’s audience, they had no right to look at it. He bit his lip to stop himself from snarling when the cameraman did a close-up of the back of the costume. There it was: sharp edges and perfect little circles, encased in a see-through frame, there for everyone to see.

How dare they.

How dare Viktor-

His thoughts ground to a halt. What. Abruptly, the feeling was gone, and Yuuri had no idea where it even came from. The insane jealousy disappeared as fast as it appeared, leaving Yuuri in somewhat of a dazed state. He didn’t get himself. It was him who decided not to tell Viktor, who must be expecting someone just as amazing as him to turn up and announce himself as his soulmate, so he had no right to be angry. Of course Viktor would be showing off his soulmark in front of the cameras, it raised the chances of his soulmate noticing. He shook his head slightly and watched on as Viktor assumed his starting position in the center of the rink.

(A treacherous voice in the back of his head was still snarling and spitting in fury as he watched the stadium full of people staring at Viktor, who had his soulmark bared for the whole world to see.)

The music Viktor skated to was the Russian version of a song from some animated movie that Yuuri had never seen. It was beautiful, gentle and very sad, but powerful and grandiose at the same time, soaring into heights with what was obviously a heart-wrenching story if Viktor’s expressions and movements were anything to go by. The emotion was unmistakable: Yuuri had to grasp at his heart to try and keep his feelings contained. It was exquisite and heart-breaking; Viktor skated with long strides and passionate twirls, jumps woven masterfully into the choreography, never breaking the flow of the dance. It was a performance you couldn’t take your eyes off of. He demanded to be seen, the turmoil of emotions in the program demanded to be felt.

It came to an end all too soon: the song finished on a high, drawn out note, and Viktor was kneeling on the ice, head bowed, arms wrapped around himself. It was one of the best programs Yuuri had ever seen him perform.

The commentators’ voice started making its way into his ears again.

“Another breath-taking performance from Nikiforov! This man truly is legendary. His jumps are scarily accurate, his technical score is still at an all-time high, and this presentation!”

“If he keeps enhancing this program the way he usually does on the way to the Grand Prix Finals, he might even break world record again! There is the triple axel in slow-motion! Perfect height, beautiful posture!”

“Look at the emotion in that step-sequence! Last year, he was flamboyant and playful, but this season, he’s obviously adopted a much more mature, heartfelt, emotional style. Will we ever be able to predict what to expect from this man?”

“Not anytime soon, that’s for sure! Viktor Nikiforov, a man who keeps reinventing himself to wow figure skating professionals and fans alike!”

It was true: Viktor this year was nothing like the Viktor he met at the Worlds. In his new costume, he looked even more impossible to reach than before. It seemed as though he decided to take up the role that people had already given him: a royalty in the world of skating, the king on the top of the podium who would hold on to his titles until the day he retired. He watched the rest of the competition in a daze.

Even through the filter of his amazement upon watching Viktor skate, the vicious jealousy that came over him earlier still lingered above his head all evening.

***

Viktor’s short program ended up being the most memorable moment in the entire series. His free skate was quite awe-inspiring too, and there were some other spectacular performances as well, but nothing could compare to his magnificent SP.

Yuuri, in the meantime, just tried to stay afloat amongst all the challenges he was facing. It was around two weeks before the GPF when he decided that there is absolutely no way he was going to make the podium in Kadoma. While he was capable of skating his programs to a level where he wouldn’t be absolutely humiliated, his heart wasn’t really in it. He was worried about so many things, and skating somehow became a burden. He didn’t have the right emotional and mental state for his programs, and if he was being completely honest with himself, he wasn’t exactly planning on a big victory streak this season from the get go.

Obviously, Celestino wasn’t happy when he told him all of this. He was as straightforward about his opinion as he seemed to be about everything: if Yuuri doesn’t want to win, if he doesn’t want to take himself seriously, he couldn’t help him. If Yuuri isn’t willing to make himself do his best, to put in the needed amount of effort, to at the very least  _try_ , Celestino alone couldn’t make him win. It hurt, it offended him, it scared him, it really did, and Yuuri hid away in his room for days after the conversation, skipping practice and classes, but in the end he realized that the man was right.

After all, he’d pretty much convinced himself that he couldn’t possibly advance from the Nationals in this season, and he did so way back in May, never once thinking differently as the season progressed. Yes, the programs weren’t perfect, but wasn’t that on him as well? He didn’t care enough to try to change them, didn’t tell his coach that he didn’t like them, not once. He just went with what Celestino gave him, even though he knew they weren’t programs that he could skate his best.

On the one hand, he only had a handful of weeks left until the Nationals. On the other, the look on Celestino’s face when he told him he wants to make changes to his programs was absolutely worth building up the confidence for it.

The weeks leading up to the Nationals were filled with grueling work. He barely even registered what else had been happening in the skating world, except for the news about Viktor breaking his SP world record  _again_  at the GPF. To be quite honest, it wasn’t just the skating world. With the last minute changes to his programs, he practiced hours upon hours upon hours until his body became numb to the pain of strained, protesting muscles and angry, purple bruises and permanent, red blisters, and his focus narrowed in on skating completely. The relentless practice only stopped the week before the Nationals, because Celestino wanted to make absolutely certain that Yuuri was not sleep deprived and overworked when it finally came to the actual competition. The proud look on his face was too apparent even for Yuuri to deny.

Of course, none of this meant that he was even remotely ready for the actual competition. The last minute changes were scary, and he knew that even with all the work he’s put into the programs in the last few weeks, realistically this still won’t be his best season. His main worry, honestly, was that he’d fail to live up to people’s expectations. He set the bar high last year, everybody was expecting him to make a repeat of that feat, but he knew he couldn’t. On top of all that, the prospect of seeing Viktor again at the Worlds was actually making him want to win at the Nationals less; if he was entirely honest with himself, he wasn’t ready to face his idol and soulmate again. He had no idea what he could possibly say to him, or if he could even talk to him at all. Then again, he reasoned, this was something he’d have more than enough time to worry about after and  _if_  he managed to climb the podium at the Nationals.

***

“You look like you haven’t slept in days, Yuuri.”

Yuuri glanced at Celestino and sighed. He couldn’t really disagree.

“I tried, coach” he answered, carefully avoiding the eyes of the older man. His coach just shook his head and clapped him on the shoulder before holding out his hand for Yuuri’s blade guards.

It wasn’t like he was lying. He stared at the dark ceiling for hours upon hours every day, trying to will away the anxious thoughts, trying to ignore the quiet, poisonous whispering telling him that he was set to lose everything he gained in the previous season, but it just wouldn’t work. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what internet-born techniques he used to help him sleep, nothing managed to let him enter the world of dreams until the early hours in the morning. Once or twice, when he somehow won out against his relentless brain trying to keep him awake, he’d wake up an hour or two later, covered in sweat, panting heavily, shaking from the latest nightmare. And thinking about how much the lack of rest was hurting him, stressing over how much it would hinder his performance, how it will affect his overall capabilities made it even worse, even harder to fall asleep. It was a vicious cycle; one that Yuuri never really knew how to handle.

Usually Vicchan’s warm body next to his was the magic spell. But Vicchan was in a small animal bed, in a small family inn, in a small town, far-far away from a very small-feeling Yuuri, who in turn was all alone in a very big America, in the big city of Detroit.

He shook his head lightly as he stepped on the ice. He needed to focus, and thinking about how much he was missing Vicchan was not helping.

(Neither were all the people staring at him from the stands or the blinding flash of the cameras all around the rink. He tried to ignore it.)

The practice went pretty well yesterday, or as well as he could expect it to, so he was hoping not to mess up in the warm up either. Celestino didn’t say a word about forgoing jumps in the warm up, but for once in his life, he was seriously considering it. He could do them just fine during practice, could do them with no problem, but his confidence was very, very fragile at the moment. If he fell... he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t shatter his already cracking mental stability.

He’d never once listened to Souma-sensei. Maybe he’d be proud of him for listening now. Hopefully he was watching somewhere, thinking about how yes, he was the one who told Yuuri not to do jumps in warm up if he’s feeling too unstable. Maybe not. Maybe he was looking at his skating thinking about how much worse he was, and how his perception of him during the years he trained Yuuri was incorrect, how untalented and-

Focus, Yuuri. Focus.

“Please, leave the ice.”

Yuuri sighed and skated to the exit. He was the second skater, so he wasn’t supposed to go too far.

“I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t do your jumps” Celestino greeted him, instantly shattering any pride he held for making a sensible decision concerning his warm up.

“I-I, uh, m-my pre-previous c-coach, uh, used t-to say t-that I-I shouldn’t d-do them i-if I’m n-not very s-st-stable” he stuttered out, suddenly terrified that he messed up by not practicing jumps, by listening to an old piece of situational advice and by bringing up his previous coach as an explanation for all of it.

“That’s not a bad idea. I didn’t realize you were so anxious. You have nothing to worry about, Yuuri” Celestino said, patting his shoulder. “You’re the current champion, and I’m sure that you can defend your title.”

Yuuri wasn’t. He decided to just smile tightly at his coach, turning his head toward the skater on the ice. He hoped the smile wasn’t too obviously fake. He stared at the other competitor, trying to block out everything, the sounds, the smells, the people, waiting for his turn.

Stepping on the ice was almost humanly impossible. Before, he thought the hardest it could ever get was the gala during the previous Worlds, but he was proven wrong. He could quite literally feel the expectation suffocating him, the excitement of the crowd hanging heavily in the air of the stadium, the cold temperature from the normally calmingly cool ice under his feet savagely biting into any naked patch of skin. For a second, he considered turning right back and leaving. It was the old fleeing instinct that always got to him when he was in a hard situation.

He glanced over his shoulder. Celestino smiled at him and gave him an encouraging nod.

No turning back, is there? – he thought. He was horrified of having to perform, of the possibility of failure, of disappointing all of the people expecting him to be something more than he actually is – but he was a lot more terrified of having to face his coach if he didn’t even try.

He pulled on the long sleeves of his costume as he skated to the middle of the rink. Deep breaths. Focus. He looked at the judges, then quickly dropped his head to assume his starting position. Don’t think about them. Concentrate on the ice and the music and yourself. Nothing else matters.

The program started out slow and gentle, with smaller, graceful movements and smaller jumps. The emotional height was scheduled for later, but he had to build everything up perfectly for it to really touch the audience. It was a story about secrets, at least that’s what Celestino said he’d had in mind. The first part of the program was about a time when he was still in hiding, keeping the secret to himself, trying to be as hard to notice as possible. Originally, the second half of the program was about an excited confession, but that was one of the changes Yuuri had made.

_“I wouldn’t just suddenly tell someone. They’d find me out. I’d be scared, not elated.”_

As he approached the second half, the program got more hectic, with a focus on expressing the terror of losing authority over a big secret. He tried, he really did, to stop it from affecting his performance, but with his own anxiety on top, reaching so far into the feelings integrated into the program proved to be too much. He invested himself too deeply into the thought of someone finding out his secret, the secret about Viktor, about maybe  _Viktor himself_  finding out, pushing him away, leaving him, laughing at him for thinking even for a second that he could be enough. The spins and steps were all good, if a bit shaky, but his jumps suffered, and suffered deeply. While he managed to land his combination jump, saving a lot of points, after that he completely lost the ability to concentrate. He fell on a triple and touched down on a quad, freaking himself out and ending up making the rest of his performance more erratic than necessary.

As he crouched on the ice at the end of the program, he almost started crying, but he couldn’t decide if it was in relief or shame. Yes, he butchered the jumps, yes, it would probably affect his overall score badly, and yes, everyone expected so much more of him, but at least it was finally over. He had to force himself to get up, quickly bow to the judges and crowd, then he shot off toward the kiss and cry without picking up any of the plushies or flowers. Somewhere in his brain he registered that there were a surprising amount of them on the ice, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care too deeply.

“Alright, Yuuri, alright. You’re done” Celestino said in a comforting tone, offering Yuuri a bottle of water. He didn’t seem particularly upset… although seeing how Yuuri barely even wanted to try to compete, this was certainly more than the nothing he offered a few weeks ago.

“Come on, let’s sit down.” His coach had him by the shoulder before he even processed the words. “You did just fine, don’t mind the jumps. Your step sequence was very good, as I’ve expected, and your combination was flawless. You had most of your jumps in the second half, which will also raise your score a bit. I’m sure your score will place you high enough to make the podium with your free skate tomorrow.”

The encouraging words barely reached Yuuri. The feeling of the cold ice under his fingertips as he touched down during his quadruple toe loop was still there, so was the increasingly painful spot on the side of his thigh from the fall on his triple flip and the mental image of Viktor laughing over his fallen body on the ice. He felt numb, somehow. He thought he did horribly, compared to the expectations of the fans and judges. He should be a bright star of Japanese figure skating, shouldn’t he? He was the second best in the world last season. He should easily be best in the country, shouldn’t he? Yes, it had been almost a year since then. But that made no difference, at least he didn’t think so.

“The score for Yuuri Katsuki” the voice announced. He stared at the screen, even though he had no chance of seeing it without his glasses, which were probably somewhere on his coach. Before he could even really try, Celestino was patting him on the back.

“Just like I said, you can win tomorrow with a good free!” he announced in a cheery voice. Yuuri just sighed and buried his face in his hands. More expectations. Great.

***

The next day, he felt much more prepared for some reason. Maybe it was the program as well – he always performed this one better, and if he had to choose which program he disliked less, he would’ve definitely picked the free skate –, maybe his anxiety ran out of fuel after the SP, maybe he was just slipping into a state of such emotional crisis that he was losing the connection with his own feelings. Either way, he was feeling much more optimistic – which was actually not all  _that_ optimistic, but definitely more positive than before.

He was skating his FS in the second group, so he had plenty of time getting ready. Usually, this affected him badly, as he had more time to get worked up. This time, he’d decided to watch the others – which technically wasn’t a good decision, since this also normally ended up making him more upset –, and he managed to get so engrossed in the performances that he forgot to worry about himself for a whole forty minutes. The other competitors were interesting, at the very least, but it was blatantly obvious that Japan didn’t have a lot of talent in the men’s singles department this year. Even though his silver medal last year earned them three spots in the World Championships, he doubted that anyone would have even just a slight chance at… well, even just a silver again. Never mind gold; nobody here held a candle to Viktor.

The relative lack of nerves still held as he joined the others on the ice for warm up, so he attempted some jumps, and even though he stumbled the smallest bit on his triple flip – he didn’t normally have a problem with the flips, but yesterday’s fiasco shook him a bit –, he felt he was doing okay. Maybe, just maybe, he did actually have a chance to medal. He was certainly better than the skaters he watched competing in the first group, and if he doesn’t somehow self-destruct during his FS, he would probably turn out better than most of the skaters in the second group as well.

Reconciliation. The theme was much less sensitive than the SP, and he felt a lot more confident in it too. It was actually something he yearned for. Not the sort of rapprochement the program was about, but… well… he couldn’t really put it into words.

Luckily, he only had to put it into skating.

He did.

“Amazing! That was your best performance of this program yet!” Celestino greeted him with a huge grin on his face as Yuuri glided to the kiss and cry with an onigiri plushie in his arms. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be a personal best! Great work, Yuuri!”

Yuuri couldn’t help his own grin. While he was certain that in a few seconds, watching the replay of his jumps, they’ll find some issues and imperfections, he had to agree that his performance was undoubtedly one of his best, and definitely the most he’d ever made of this particular program.

The personal best on the screen with the added bonus of his SP scores ended up winning him silver, and granting him a spot in the 4Cs and the Worlds.

***

The exaltation about medalling lasted until he arrived back to his dorm room in Detroit. Then reality came rushing back in, immediately making the much awaited upcoming competitions a reason for extreme nervousness instead. Completely ignoring the problem of meeting Viktor again after last year, first semester exams were upon him. He had to concentrate on his education, but he couldn’t slack off at training either, especially on his short program, which still left a lot to desire. As a result, he drank a lot more coffee than what probably would’ve been healthy – luckily he never had problems with his blood pressure – and slept a lot less than he should have. On the other hand, he ended up being so exhausted by the time he was finally able to go to bed that he stopped having problems with falling asleep.

(Getting up in the mornings was an altogether different question.)

He was vaguely aware of the Russian Nationals, but he couldn’t really afford to pay attention to it. Besides, it wasn’t like he had any reason to suspect that Viktor may not make it to the Worlds; the thought that he wouldn’t win gold was laughable. Not that the other Russian skaters were that horrible, although he wasn’t aware of any other true talents, but Viktor was… well.

As they reached the peak of the exam period, Celestino ordered him to take a small break from skating and concentrate on his studies, and while this was probably the only reason he didn’t fail anything, it put a lot of extra pressure on him. He had to do well in school, especially since he got to take time off from skating, and taking time off in the middle of the competitive season made him extremely anxious about the possible decline in his performance. And then there was the stress eating and the snapping at the people around him and the irregularly occurring panic attacks, never mind the actual exams and all the anxiety they gave him. All in all, January that year was probably a very good contender for the worst month in his life.

But like every horrible period of time in his life, it slowly came to an end. He finished the exams, went back to concentrating on skating, lost the weight he gained from the junk he stuffed into his system during January, and started mentally and physically preparing for the 4Cs.

Ending up in fourth place was, for once in his life, not a cause for a mental breakdown for him. While he wasn’t happy with it – he started to suspect that he would never be truly happy until he won a gold medal with more than a lucky state of mind –, he knew that he wasn’t at his best after the short break in practice, and that he still had time until the Worlds. Secretly, so secretly that he barely even dared admit it to himself, he was hoping for another medal, as proof that last year wasn’t a one-time accident. It was his main goal all season, and so far, he didn’t feel like he proved it.

The Worlds could be it. His big chance to show everyone just what Yuuri Katsuki is made of.

(Viktor would be there. Viktor would watch. Viktor would be the only one whose judgment Yuuri was truly interested in. Viktor might find him interesting enough to…)

The World Championships would, once again, determine his worth for the rest of the year. And he wanted everyone to keep remembering him as Japan’s rising star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's SP music: Once Upon a December from Anastasia, in Russian [[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E9JPqJDRNQg)]
> 
> I don't actually have the music for each skate, some of them I've only imagined and then couldn't find any actual music that fit my imagination :D But I'll always link the ones I did manage to settle on.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! Let me know your thoughts in the comments ^^
> 
> See you next Saturday! (spoilers: Viktor and Yuuri will actually interact for more than two sentences next week ;D )
> 
> You can also find me on [my YoI blog on tumblr](http://yoitookovermylife.tumblr.com)!


	4. So Close and So Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor meet at the World Championships again, except this time, they interact a lot more. Yuuri is still very good at convincing himself about things that aren't true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've immensely enjoyed writing this chapter! It's probably because there is a lot of Viktor in it :D  
> Thank you for the comments and kudos, they really motivate me to continue writing this story in spite of the unbearable heat over here <3  
> Enjoy~

“Yuuri Katsuki.”

As the receptionist started searching for his name, he looked around in the lobby, hoping to get a glimpse of any other competitors. Detroit was only a two hours’ drive from London, Ontario, so they didn’t hurry too much, but they still arrived quite early.

“Please fill in this form” the woman said, holding a paper and a pen. He started scribbling his information in, half-heartedly listening to David and Celestino arguing about practice time and exploration. (“It’s a two hours’ drive, David, you can come up here to see the city any time!”) He didn’t care much for the city, since he was much more interested in using the last minutes for practice.

“Hello!” The voice was familiar, and turning around, he spotted Christophe Giacometti waving at him with a grin on his face. He smiled shyly, and quickly finished putting his signature on the sheet. “Yuuri, long time no see! I was disappointed that you didn’t join us in the Grand Prix!” he continued.

Yuuri, on his end, didn’t really think that Christophe would even remember who he is – then again, he did beat him to the silver last year, so he was probably pretty upset about that.

“H-hi!” he waved, trying to stop himself from fidgeting, suddenly very aware of every intake of breath.

“Viktor will be excited when he realizes you’re also here” Christophe said, flashing a charming smile toward the receptionist. “Christophe Giacometti, sweetheart. I lost my keycard, would you be a dear and get me a new one?” The woman blushed furiously and mistyped the name multiple times. “He had been talking a lot about your skating since he watched it after the competition” he continued, turning back to Yuuri. “He said he can’t wait to see it in person this time. That reminds me, actually! Will you be there at the public practice session in the afternoon?”

All of the new pieces of information made Yuuri’s head swim. Viktor liked his skating? He wanted to see it again? He would be excited to see him? The things that Chris was saying were so different from the way he believed Viktor thought about him that he couldn’t really mold the two images.

“Uh, yes, of course” he answered finally, adjusting his glasses. He did suddenly start agreeing with David’s insistence of seeing the city, but he knew Celestino would straight up have his head if he even as much as mentioned missing practice. He needed it. Especially because missing it would most likely make his anxiety act up even more than seeing Viktor-

He would be seeing Viktor in a mere handful of hours. God have mercy on his poor soul.

“Mr. Katsuki, your key” the woman smiled, handing him a card.

“Thank you” he answered on autopilot, then looked back at Christophe. “I’ll, uh, see you there I guess?”

“Yes, see you at practice” Chris winked, instantly proceeding to turn back and continue flirting with the receptionist. Yuuri sighed, shook his head, and turned away. He nodded to Celestino, signaling that he was going to go get his room. The man barely even noticed the gesture, too busy scolding his other skater for “lack of fighting spirit”.

This was going to be a very long day.

***

Yuuri and Celestino were the first to arrive to public practice from group four. Yuuri had earlier come to the realization that Christophe had to check assignments and correctly remember his full name and nationality to successfully identify him as one of the skaters in their practice group, and he still didn’t know what to make of that particular information. He never even looked at the list of names. Well, not until he came to this realization; after that, he checked it, hoping that Viktor wasn’t actually in the same group, and Chris meant meeting him at the competition, but he had no such luck.

As agitated as he was about seeing Viktor again so soon, he managed to focus on practice quite well, almost forgetting about who he would be practicing with. He was vaguely aware that other skaters have arrived and took to the ice, he even saw a patch of silver hair, but he pointedly ignored everyone. He knew he would have a hard time at the competition the next day, since he had to skate that wretched SP again, and so, he wanted to make the most of whatever practice time he had. Thinking about Viktor, while raising the level of emotion in his performance, completely butchered everything else. He still didn’t know how else to grasp the heart of the program, what other secret to think about. The secret of his soulmark was the only true secret he had, the only thing he wanted to hide from everyone, no matter what. He had smaller secrets, and he had tried to skate the program thinking about those, but he could never really capture the essence of it quite as well.

“Good job, Yuuri!” he heard Celestino’s voice from the side. “That’s enough for today!”

He wanted to argue, wanted to stay and use the last... whatever time was left of practice, but he already knew Celestino well enough to know that the man wouldn’t let him, no matter what he said. He had great stamina, yes, and also a tendency to overwork himself. Sighing, he glided to the exit.

“How was it?” he inquired immediately. His coach grinned, handing him his blade guards and glasses.

“Very good. Your jumps were quite clean, and you’ve landed the combinations every time you attempted them. You seem to be in a great shape, Yuuri, I’m glad to see you’re so focused!”

Yuuri smiled gratefully. He didn’t feel as bad as he normally did on the day before a competition, at least not yet, but he knew that there was still a long night ahead of him. Try as he might, he knew he’ll probably sink into his usual anxious thoughts as soon as he got a moment alone in his hotel room. He walked over to the bench, grabbing his water bottle and his phone, scrolling through social media as he drank.

“Hey, Yuuri!”

He started to worry about why on earth Christophe kept trying to talk to him.

“Hi” he said, turning toward the older skater, spotting Viktor about a foot behind him. He gulped.

“So, Viktor and I are going to go get dinner together at six. Care to join us?”

Yuuri felt like the world suddenly lost all sense of rationality. Christophe Giacometti was inviting him to go and have dinner with him and  _Viktor freaking Nikiforov_ , also known as his  _soulmate_ , and he was doing it with such a casual demeanor that Yuuri honestly felt he should be ashamed for being completely and utterly shocked. His mind short circuited on the thought of having dinner with Viktor. Why invite him? Maybe he did find out somehow and didn’t want to confront him alone? Maybe they wanted to stand him up? Maybe this was all some elaborate prank to make sure he didn’t luck his way to the second spot on the podium again? Maybe Chris never actually talked to Viktor and just wanted to get back at him for beating him last year?

“O-okay” he muttered before he even registered what he was saying. He immediately panicked when he realized what he had just agreed to. Here he was, trying to keep himself together all day, doing careful mental preparation for days before to make sure he was in the right state of mind in the next couple of days, and then he just… agreed to have dinner with Viktor Nikiforov.

God, Yuuri, what are you doing?

“Here then, give me your number so I can text you the details later” Chris smiled, handing his phone to Yuuri. The Japanese skater was still busy trying to figure out what he had gotten himself into, so he typed the numbers automatically, then forced a smile at the other skaters, grabbed his things and bolted out through the door – as much as you can  _bolt_ in skates on solid ground, that is.

***

Yuuri spent the rest of the afternoon freaking out: about his clothes, his hair, his breath, some small acne on his face, the lack of his favorite perfume, seeing Viktor, having to talk to Viktor, having to talk to Chris, needing to appear confident in his abilities, having to talk about his programs or skating, about his family and upbringing, the cultural differences between him and the European skaters, the imperfections of his nails, the stretch marks that they will surely notice even through layers of clothing-

Anxiety sure was a nice little addition to have in his life.

He ended up picking a pair of black jeans and a striped shirt, hoping he didn’t underdress or overdress. He decided to keep the glasses on, wanting to see the others properly, and since he had no idea what he looked like with his hair slicked back combined with the glasses, he ended up simply combing through it and turning away from the mirror. It wasn’t like he was trying to get Viktor to be attracted to him. He knew that was a highly unrealistic hope to nurture, and even though he couldn’t fully get rid of it, he ignored it as well as he could.

The restaurant wasn’t far from the hotel, so he had decided to walk, hoping that it would help reduce his nerves a bit. It was a relatively quiet evening, or at least as quiet as an evening in the city can be. He was grateful that the streets weren’t packed with people, leaving him room to breathe and walk comfortably without having to carefully avoid looking anyone in the eye.

Checking his watch, he saw that he had about five more minutes left until the others would arrive, so he stopped by the entrance, shoved his hands in his pockets and started looking around himself in what he thought was a confident-looking stance. He lasted about forty-seven seconds until he dropped his shoulders, grabbed his phone and pretended to be deeply engrossed in something on the screen. He hated waiting for other people in public spaces; he never knew what to do with himself.

“Hiii!”

The cheerful voice was easy to recognize, especially for someone like Yuuri, who had heard it a billion times. True, it sounded a bit different when it wasn’t on a recording. He looked up, taking a look at the silver haired man walking toward him, and he could feel himself blushing already. Viktor was, as always, stunning. He was wearing khakis and a light blue shirt, visible under his half-opened jacket. His hair was resting in a long braid on his left shoulder, and on his face was the prettiest smile in the whole wide world.

“H-h-hello” he greeted, blushing furiously and adjusting his glasses, fidgeting a bit where he stood.

“Nice to meet you again, Yuuri!” Viktor said with a smile, holding out his hand. Yuuri shook it with a trembling hand of his own, and was strongly reminded of last year and their first meeting. What must Viktor’s opinion of him be… a stumbling, stuttering kid. He might think it’s cute, in the way you’d call a baby cute, at the very best. Or maybe he thought he was some sort of an imbecile, and was only nice to him because he didn’t want to be rude to someone with limited mental capacity.

“Yeah, uh, you too” he nodded, attempting to sound as casual as he could. He almost cringed at how really very not casual he sounded.

“So, Christophe is not here yet, is he?” Viktor asked, glancing at the restaurant door.

“N-no, I don’t think so. I didn’t see him.” The older man hummed, and then pulled his phone out, checking the time.

“Maybe he’s running late. He does that sometimes. He doesn’t have the best sense of time” he smiled. “We should wait some more. If he doesn’t get here in ten minutes, I’ll try to call him.”

Yuuri nodded along, wondering what they would do if Christophe didn’t arrive for some reason. Would they still have dinner? Just the two of them together? Or would they walk back to the hotel? Maybe Viktor would prefer to have someone who wasn’t a stuttering idiot to make conversation with during dinner. Maybe he’ll invite someone else if Chris doesn’t come?

“I saw you at practice today” Viktor said, breaking the short silence. “I wanted to say hi, but you looked so focused I didn’t want to bother you” he explained with a laugh. Yuuri swallowed and looked away. He could hear the contempt in Viktor’s voice. Of course a mediocre skater like him would need complete focus even during practice not to fall on every jump he attempted.

“Yeah” he replied. Uncomfortable silence descended upon them again. Yuuri checked his watch, and saw Viktor checking his phone from the corner of his eye. As the silence stretched into awkward lengths, Yuuri felt compelled to try and say something, anything to appear at least a bit less lame than he was feeling.

“We uh, have a really nice evening” he said. Viktor blinked in surprise, making Yuuri want to facepalm at his own stupidity.

“Uh, yes. It’s definitely a nice evening. Nice weather” he added after a few seconds of confused silence.

“Yeah” Yuuri nodded. The silence was back. He wished they could just go inside, so he could like… grab a menu or something, pretend to be doing something instead of talking. Or maybe just go back to the hotel and pretend that this evening didn’t even happen.

“I’ll call Chris” Viktor announced, apparently just as uncomfortable with the silence between them as Yuuri was. He nodded, looking at the man holding the phone and biting his lower lip. Who would’ve thought? Viktor Nikiforov bites his lip when he’s nervous. Viktor Nikiforov being nervous seemed just as surprising, to be honest.

“Hm. Nothing.”

“M-maybe he’s already on the way?” Yuuri asked, glancing behind Viktor’s back.

“I don’t know, he always answers his phone. Unless he’s… well, occupied” he corrected with a laugh, then tapped on his phone again and held it to his ear. Yuuri frowned. How was Chris not answering his phone when he was occupied compatible with the statement of him always answering his phone? People are occupied all the time these days, so–

Oh.  _Occupied._

Yuuri blushed again. This much blood in his head was probably not healthy.

“Well, I’ve tried three times already. I think we should just go inside, he’ll call me when he sees I’ve called” Viktor decided, stepping to the door and holding it open for Yuuri. He entered, trying not to look Viktor in the eye, while also trying to figure out what could’ve happened so that Chris didn’t come.

Maybe he was right when he thought that Viktor figured out the soulmate thing? Maybe he asked Christophe to invite him on a trio outing so that he wouldn’t refuse? Viktor seemed strangely undisturbed by the fact that – if the tabloids were to be believed – his best friend was not showing up at an outing and not answering his phone. But why invite him to a restaurant just to tell him he didn’t want him in spite of them being soulmates?

Viktor even pulled the chair out for him. This was starting to show scary resemblances to a date.

“Good evening, sirs!” their waitress greeted them, handing them the menus. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Viktor immediately threw himself into a conversation about some wines Yuuri had never heard about before, so he had decided to take a look at the menu until the Russian figured out what sort of drink he wanted.

“What do you think, Yuuri?”

He glanced up to see both Viktor and the waitress looking at him expectantly.

“O-of course!” he agreed quickly, panicking. Apparently it was the right answer, as Viktor beamed at him and turned back to the waiter.

“Also a glass of water for both of us, please” he added. The woman nodded and glanced at Yuuri.

“Are you over nineteen?” she asked. Yuuri nodded, and dug into the pocket of his jacket, showing his personal ID to the woman. She nodded again with a smile and left them to their menus.

“I’m sure you’ll like the wine, it’s a great brand” Viktor grinned at him, opening his menu. “Although I completely forgot to ask if you could legally consume alcohol yet. I mean… I didn’t know the age limit was nineteen here either, but… heh, yeah” he laughed. Yuuri suddenly couldn’t help the urge to giggle. Viktor was apparently really trying to make conversation with him, even going as far as embarrassing himself. Another surprise.

He turned back to his menu, ignoring whatever reaction Viktor might have had to his giggle.

Picking meals and ordering eliminated all the possibility of awkward silences, but it didn’t last forever. Eventually, the waitress left them with a bottle of semi-sweet red and a good handful of minutes to fill until their meals arrived.

“You train nearby, right?” Viktor glanced at Yuuri as he tasted his wine.

“Yes, in Detroit. It’s, uh, like a two hours’ drive from here” he nodded, eyeing his own glass. He didn’t drink often – he had no reason to – so he wasn’t sure if he’d like this particular wine or not. Then again, not drinking any of it would probably upset Viktor, so…

“How come you didn’t stay in Japan? With, uh… Ichigawa, right?” Viktor frowned.

“Yes. Well…” Yuuri stopped for a second. Should he explain Viktor how he believed he could achieve more with Celestino? Or would that seem like overconfidence? What if, then, his possible failure would be attributed to his coach? “I just thought that maybe I could get better with a different coach” he finished.

“That makes sense, Celestino is quite well known, and for a reason” Viktor nodded along with a thoughtful expression. “Was your previous coach any good? I haven’t heard of him before last year.”

“Yes!” Yuuri exclaimed, with maybe a bit more vehemence than absolutely necessary. “He used to be international until like… seven or so years ago. Technically he retired then, but there were no other coaches available in the area where I lived who had large scale experience. He thought I…” Yuuri hesitated. “That I was worth his time” he muttered. “He was a very good coach. Actually…“ He blushed and stopped.

“Yes?” Viktor inquired. Yuuri shook his head.

“Nothing. He was a good coach is all.” He was going to say that he actually enjoyed working with him more than with Celestino, but he was worried that maybe it would get back to his current coach. He didn’t want that. Maybe Ichigawa understood him more, but Cialdini was not known for nothing, and he’d certainly lived up to his name. Yuuri wouldn’t have wanted him to think that he didn’t appreciate all he was doing for him.

“I see.” Viktor apparently decided not to press the issue. As the silence dragged on, Yuuri started wondering if maybe he should ask something about Viktor’s own training and coach (and pretend not to know the answer), but he was saved by another question.

“What do you think of the wine?” Yuuri glanced at his glass, realizing that he was yet to try it.

“Uh, didn’t try it yet” he said, grabbing the glass and lifting it to his mouth with some haste. Luckily, he managed not to spill any of it on himself – this was the shirt he was planning on wearing to the banquet –, and took a sip.

As far as wines went, it seemed pretty good. Yuuri preferred a more sour taste to… well, anything he drank, but at least it wasn’t overly sweet.

“It’s nice” he nodded as he put the glass back down. That seemed to earn Viktor’s approval, since he beamed at him again, like he was over the moon to have successfully chosen something Yuuri enjoyed. Which, well, sounded like complete lunacy, but whatever. Yuuri was starting to realize that spending the entire night wondering about Viktor’s motivations wasn’t going to be highly productive.

“Do you ever miss it?” Viktor suddenly asked.

“Huh?” Yuuri blinked.

“Japan, I mean. I just… have a hard time imagining living so far away from my homeland” Viktor expanded, vaguely gesturing with his hand. Yuuri shrugged.

“I don’t know. I mean, sometimes? It’s not really the country I miss. More like… my family, our house… my dog, most of all” he explained, staring into nothing next to the Russian’s shoulder.

“Oh, you have a dog?” Viktor’s face lit up, making Yuuri focus on him again and smile as well. He nodded. “Do you have photos? Can I see? I’m a great lover of dogs, you know!” Viktor exclaimed with an adorable expression and a lively glint in his eye. Yuuri loved it.

“Yes, of course” he laughed, grabbing his phone and scrolling through the gallery. He picked his favorite picture of himself and Vicchan. It was an old photo, made a few days after he got the poodle, and even spite of all the more recent ones, he still thought this one was the best.

“Here, uh, it’s an old picture, but…” he trailed off as he handed the phone to Viktor.

The man  _cooed_.

Yuuri had lost the battle completely.

After that, the conversation turned from dogs to animals to movies and before Yuuri had noticed, they finished the first bottle of wine. He was feeling elated; talking with Viktor turned out to be really easy, and once the conversation took off, it was like they couldn’t stop talking. Viktor told Yuuri about the origins of his skating career, and Yuuri told Viktor about the Nishigoris. Viktor entertained Yuuri with a story about his rink mates, so Yuuri gave a humorous description of Celestino’s and David’s argument earlier. And so on, and so forth, they exchanged stories and drank and ate, and suddenly, Yuuri found himself wondering why exactly he was denying this of himself.

Maybe this could actually be. Maybe it wasn’t that far a stretch to just… try to get to know Victor better, and slowly and gradually tell him everything. Maybe there could be something, something grand and beautiful and happy between the two of them. He felt so content and joyful in his company, the thought that maybe he could spend the rest of his life with him like this…

He smiled to himself, and tried focusing on what Viktor was talking about again.

“So that was pretty much my favorite one. And then last year… well, that costume was actually mostly designed because of the transparent back thing” Viktor laughed.

Yuuri froze.

“I’m wondering whether my soulmate is interested in skating. You know, it would be really strange if they weren’t, because it’s… well, it’s been my life ever since I’ve discovered what it was. It would only make sense for them to be interested at the very least. So I’m almost certain that if I keep wearing costumes like the ones since last year, they’ll notice it sooner or later. I watched sports news too, and it seems that there is at least one picture of my mark everywhere. It really is out there now… I hope…” Viktor trailed off. “Heh” he smiled, staring at the glass in front of him.

“I wonder what kind of a person they are. I’m sure we’re a lot alike. They are probably the most amazing person in the world. I wish I knew who they are.”

Yuuri bit his lip.

The most amazing person in the world? Yes, that would be who Viktor was expecting. Not… well, Yuuri. He emptied his glass of wine in record time.

“Do you know anything about your–“

“We should head back to the hotel. We’ll be having an early morning” Yuuri said, abruptly standing up. This was not a conversation to be had. Viktor’s description of his soulmate was more than enough to prove to him that he was right, and that the other man was expecting someone far grander than him. They might have had a great time, but that probably only had any meaning for Yuuri and none for Viktor. This was an outing between friendly competitors, end of story.

“O-okay” Viktor faltered, obviously surprised by the sudden change of mood. “I’ll, uh, pay, you go on ahead. I’ll catch up with you” he added, fingers twiddling with the end of his braid. Yuuri turned a deep shade of red.

“N-no, I’ll p-pay my p-part” he stuttered. Viktor smiled at him and shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s no trouble. You’re my guest” he insisted. Yuuri sat back down with an awkward cough, hiding his hands in his lap, staring at his interwoven fingers.

“Thank you very much” he muttered. “I’ll wait for you here” he added.

The air turned cruelly awkward. Any thoughts of how maybe they could be compatible disappeared, and Yuuri was left with a feeling of deep disappointment and vague emptiness.

“So… the food was nice, wasn’t it?” Viktor asked once they were outside the restaurant. Yuuri hummed in agreement. The silence descended upon them again as they started walking back toward the hotel.

Viktor started babbling about some diner he visited in America once.

This was Yuuri’s fault again. It was no surprise that Viktor was so confused by his sudden coldness, he had seemingly no reason for it, and yet the Russian still tried to keep the conversation going somehow.

And Viktor didn’t know why. He couldn’t. Yuuri had always paid close attention to covering his mark, especially since he found out, especially when Viktor was around. It seemed so unfair all of the sudden. Here was Viktor, still hoping, still looking, while Yuuri knew about the disappointment awaiting him. He glanced over at the tall figure striding next to him, twirling his braid with his left hand, words rushing out of his mouth, overlaid with a thick Russian accent.

He had to tell him. It was so selfish to keep this secret to himself.

Oh, he knew that Viktor, always so full of light and excitement, will go dark and distant the second he uttered the words. Or maybe he would laugh and wave him off. He could imagine himself trying to explain that he wasn’t joking, that this really is the truth. He could see the grin fading from those lips, he could picture the disappointment overwriting every other emotion on Viktor’s face.

He had to do it. He didn’t have the right to keep lying to him.

“Which floor is your room on?” Viktor asked, suddenly making Yuuri realize that they were already back at the hotel. He blinked and looked up at the Russian man. There were melting snowflakes in his hair and on his clothes, and he had a gentle smile on his face.

Maybe that gentle smile would remain there even after he’d rejected him. Maybe even in spite of the marks on them, they could be friends. Maybe he just needed to clear the air, let Viktor work through the disappointment, and then they could finally chat without this thing hanging above their heads.

“Viktor… I… I need to tell you something” he said, balling his fists, straightening his back. Viktor stared at him with a surprised expression, but then the smile returned.

“Go ahead, Yuuri” he nodded.

Yuuri took a deep breath.

Viktor’s phone started ringing.

Yuuri closed his mouth.

“Uh” Viktor huffed, reaching into his pocket, glancing at the screen. “It’s, uh, Chris. Do you mind?”

Yuuri shook his head.

“Chris, hi! Where–“ Yuuri watched as Viktor turned away, listening to whatever Christophe was saying, frowning slightly.

The opportunity that seemed clear and ready, his decision that he felt so certain of, it all became hazy. What was he thinking? Even if he did tell Viktor, how could he face him after? They had a competition ahead of them still, he couldn’t afford to distract either of them with this particular conversation. It wasn’t the right time for this.

“Oh wow. I see. Well get better, Chris! I don’t want a staircase stopping you from being there at the GPF next season!” Viktor snickered. After a second of silence, he laughed out loud. “Sure. See you!”

Viktor pocketed his phone again, turning back to Yuuri.

“So, apparently, Chris stepped wrong on the stairs and strained his ankle. He won’t compete tomorrow, and that’s also why he couldn’t have dinner with us. He says he’s sorry he didn’t tell us before, but he got some painkillers and knocked himself out, slept until just now” he explained. Yuuri nodded quietly, fidgeting with his own phone. He didn’t even notice he took it out.

“So… what did you want to say?” Viktor asked, but Yuuri forced himself to smile and shook his head.

“It’s nothing. I’ll be going to bed now. Good night, and good luck for tomorrow” he jabbered, quickly turning around and shooting off toward the staircase, not wanting to have to endure the uncomfortable elevator ride with Viktor.

***

Did he really say “nice evening”? Oh, god, he must have bored him to death with the story of the chaos of his first week in Detroit. And the one about Celestino locking himself into the bathroom at the rink by accident? It was such a horrible move to talk about that time, what if Viktor doesn’t keep it to himself? He was way too eager, there is no way Viktor didn’t notice it. Everyone will be laughing at him tomorrow after Viktor has told them what an overbearing, lame guy he is. And did he seriously attempt telling him about being soulmates? The story about David stealing Katie’s skates and phone and taking pictures of himself licking the blades? Why the fucking hell did he have to talk about that one? Shit, he even bored him with his university courses, Viktor must think he is the most boring person he’s ever met. Who cares if he has a hard time balancing skating and university sometimes? Did he really have to blabber on about Ichigawa’s coaching past? What if Viktor realized he wanted to badmouth Celestino and that gets out somehow? God, he made Viktor pay for their meal and drinks, it’s not like he’s broke, he could’ve afforded that, he wouldn’t have accepted the invitation if he couldn’t!

***

Yuuri didn’t sleep a lot that night.

***

The competition nerves made their long awaited appearance the next morning. Celestino tried to calm him, but Yuuri could sense that his coach was just as frustrated with his anxieties as he was, and it made him feel even worse. Everything was okay yesterday, why did he have to mess it up by going out to have dinner with Viktor? He would’ve been fine. Perfectly fine.

He fell during warm up multiple times. His body was loudly protesting, his movements were a bit sluggish. He wanted to hide away and cry. He was disoriented and sad, constantly trying to swallow his tears, and he didn’t want to go out and skate. The idea that all those people will be watching him skate about his secret, about the pain and fear it caused him terrified him.

He knew he didn’t have a choice.

All too soon, he stepped on the ice, a last encouraging pat from Celestino lingering on his back, the lights in the stadium blinding him. He thought he was shaking. He wasn’t sure.

The feelings overwhelmed him the second he started the program. He tried his best to swallow the tears and concentrate, but the story behind the performance, the emotions within shined through. His vision was even more blurry than normally. He barely processed anything as he pushed through the program, only half-aware that he, even though wobbly, landed all of his jumps. It was over soon, but not soon enough. He could feel the tears streaming down his face, so he just bowed quickly and escaped from the ice.

Celestino was waiting for him at the exit, opening his arms to welcome him in a comforting hug.

He pushed him away and walked out of the rink.

He locked himself into his room until the next morning.

***

 Yuuri only found out about it the next morning, but apparently his performance was so emotional and moving that it helped him climb all the way to sixth place. He wasn’t overjoyed to skate in the last group, especially as first, but he wanted to use the day in-between to calm down and get back into some resemblance of a competitive mindset.

He avoided the patch of silver hair like the plague, and had a hard time looking his coach in the eye. At times like this, he really hated his life.

Celestino tried to convince him to tell him what went wrong the day before, but he straight up refused, and after three tries his coach gave up; while Yuuri trusted his expertise as a figure skating professional, he did not trust him with his feelings. He’d deal with those himself, the way he always did: alone.

The free skate was nowhere near his performance at the Nationals, but with Christophe out of the picture and the French skater messing up, he managed to grab fifth place.

He was utterly and thoroughly disappointed.

***

“Yuuri, congratulations on fifth place!”

He recognized the voice immediately, and he wished the floor of the banquet room opened underneath him and swallowed him whole. He turned around slowly, trying to force himself to smile.

“T-thank you. Congratulations on the gold” he answered, resolutely not looking Viktor in the eye. He was wearing a suit probably more expensive than Yuuri’s entire wardrobe, and it fit his frame a bit too perfectly. Yuuri wanted to find the nearest window and just jump out.

“Thanks!” Viktor grinned; he saw it from the corner of his eye. The music changed in the background. Viktor turned for a second, and Yuuri was almost relieved that maybe that was all he wanted, but then he extended his hand toward Yuuri.

“Would you like to dance with me?” Yuuri looked up at him so fast it was a wonder it didn’t give him a whiplash. Viktor’s face was one of confident charm, his mouth curved in a flirty smile, his eyes boring holes into him.

He wanted to say no, he really did, but those blue eyes enchanted him all over again.

Instead of a verbal reply, he placed a trembling hand in Viktor’s, and before he knew it, he was dragged to the dance floor, and his other hand was on Viktor’s shoulder, and they were waltzing.

“Relax, дорогой мой” Viktor whispered in his ear. He shivered. All thoughts left him once more, and he eased into Viktor’s arms.

“That’s it. I’ve got you” the Russian said, carefully leading him through the dance. Yuuri forgot every worry he’d been struggling with before, and let himself be swept away by the feeling of Viktor’s strong arms around him, the hair that tickled the hand he had on Viktor’s shoulder, the gentle guidance as Viktor led the dance. He didn’t know why this was happening, he didn’t understand any of it, but he did know that for the first time in forever, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

He’d never really touched Viktor before, only for brief moments. Maybe he was just imagining the way his touch burned him so perfectly, how it satiated a hunger he didn’t realize he had. Maybe it was only him, again, as so many times before. This time, however, he didn’t care. Viktor was there, and Yuuri knew that he’d give anything to be able to stay in his arms and enjoy this warm, fulfilling touch for the rest of his life.

“I was worried when I heard about what happened during your short program” Viktor murmured quietly, pulling him a bit closer, so that Yuuri could feel his soft, warm breath on his neck. “Did something happen? Did I say something wrong the night before?”

They were really innocent, and almost touching questions, and they finally explained what was happening. Viktor was concerned that he hurt Yuuri somehow, affecting his performance, and he was trying to make up for it. Yuuri hated the moment of understanding. It kept happening, it kept ruining these short, perfect little glimpses he got into what a life with Viktor could be like.

“N-no. It wasn’t your fault” he answered, pulling away. The music was still going, but he had to leave. He couldn’t stay and see Viktor withdraw from him, once he understood that he had nothing to make up for. “There were a lot of things on my mind” he added.

Viktor frowned a bit, arm still extended toward Yuuri.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Yuuri nodded, and pretended to look at his watch.

“It’s getting late. We’ll be leaving early in the morning, and I’m exhausted. I think I’ll call it a night” he explained, already turning away from Viktor. He was stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Wait!” Viktor sounded… distraught. “One more dance?” The hopeful expression on his face was too much for Yuuri. He looked at him for the better half of a minute, forgetting everything aside from the wish to just step back into his arms, dance with him until the night is over and never let go again. But that expression reminded him of the one he saw on his face two nights earlier, when he was talking about his soulmate, and that reminder was enough for him to gather the strength to pull his arm out of Viktor’s hold.

“I’m really tired. I’m… I… I-I’m sorry” he stuttered, and then, as fast as he could without actually running, he fled the banquet.

***

He spent the night alone in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Viktor’s gentle smile. Viktor beaming at him as he agreed with his choices. Viktor cooing at the picture of Vicchan. Viktor animatedly telling a story about Makkachin stealing the meat from his plate while he answered the door for a neighbor. Viktor extending his hand out to him in an invitation for a dance. Viktor’s arms around him, his breath ghosting his neck, his warmth a soothing, tranquilizing presence, engulfing him. The change in Viktor’s voice as he said… whatever that was in his native language.

He wanted to take these memories and keep them close to his heart. Thinking of them was sweet torture, yes, he had to admit that. Knowing what exactly it was that he couldn’t have made enduring it a lot harder. Still, seeing the person behind the legend and the fame made him fall even further, even more. He didn’t know if he’d be able to keep himself away from the flame that threatened to burn him every time he ventured too close.

Viktor’s arms around him. Viktor’s gentle, sweet, almost loving smile.

He knew he’d take the risk a million times over just to never lose these memories.

***

“Are you not going to pack?”

“No, I’m not leaving.”

“Wait, you’re staying here for the summer?”

He nodded at his roommate. This was probably the longest conversation they’d ever had.

“I’m still training, and I have to work hard for the next season. Some people from home might come for a visit, but I can’t afford to go home” he explained. The guy looked perplexed, but gave up after a few seconds.

“Good luck then” he said, finishing the conversation, turning back to his suitcase. Yuuri looked at his back for a few seconds more, then plopped down on his bed, put his earphones on and closed his eyes. He didn’t long for heartfelt farewells: he was happy that he’d have the room all for himself at least for the summer, and the guy would be back soon enough anyway.

This summer was going to be different from the ones before. Before, he always gave himself a break during summer, making exceptions from his diet, cutting back on his training and general physical exercise, but he couldn’t do that this year.

He had a new season to prepare for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That concludes chapter four!
> 
> дорогой мой - my dear/my darling
> 
> I hope you've all enjoyed the new chapter ^^ Let me know your thoughts in the comments, and see you next Saturday!
> 
> P.S. You can also find me on my [YoI blog on Tumblr](https://yoitookovermylife.tumblr.com/)!


	5. Victory March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri goes up against a new season filled to the brim with determination to finally prove himself to be Japan's ace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter done! Thank you so much for the kudos and comments and bookmarks and everything, they feed my insecure writer's soul <3  
> Enjoy~
> 
> P.S.: I'm... sorry in advance? *nervous laughter*
> 
> P.P.S.: There is a mature scene in this chapter, the part between the one that ends with the sentence "They didn’t mention Viktor’s name again during the rest of their time together." and the one that begins with "Yuuri was very lucky that his roommate was away for summer vacation." in case someone wants to avoid that stuff ^^

“Coach, could we talk?” Yuuri asked after a practice sometime in late June. Celestino was visibly surprised by the request.

“Of course. Come on, sit down” he gestured to the benches. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve… I’ve been thinking about programs” Yuuri admitted, trying to put on a brave front. He’d been gathering the courage to have this conversation for weeks.

“Oh?”

The reaction didn’t seem negative, so Yuuri continued.

“I have a theme in mind. Uh… l-longing? And I… Ihaveamusicfortheshort” he jabbered, going red and turning his gaze away from the man sitting next to him. He really hoped Celestino wouldn’t ask for clarification, or why he’d chosen this theme exactly. He didn’t want to explain, and not only that, but he didn’t really know how he’d explain anyway. He glanced at his coach.

“Well… I’d like to hear it first, of course, but that’s a good theme. Do you want to choreograph it too, or…?” Yuuri shook his head quickly.

“No, no, no, no way. I just… I’ve been thinking about this theme and heard the music and I thought it really expresses something that I want to express. P-plus I have no idea what to use for the free skate, I mean I’ve looked, but I haven’t found anything yet” he explained, feeling a bit more at ease when he saw Celestino nodding along.

“Well, if the music fits your theme so well, it will be easier for you to make a great performance. That’s good. I’ll help you look for pieces for the free skate, and you keep looking too. See what we can find” the man contemplated. Yuuri smiled and jumped up.

“I’ll send the short to you later today” he said. Celestino nodded and stood up himself, smiling at Yuuri.

“I’m glad you’re putting more thought into your programs this year, Yuuri. I’m sure it will show.”

Yuuri blushed, trying to decide whether this was a compliment or not. In the end, he just smiled back at his coach and walked off to the locker room.

***

Celestino agreed to the music as soon as he heard it, and managed to find him another piece that complemented it perfectly. And Yuuri loved them both, loved the way they expressed everything he felt when he thought of Viktor. It wasn’t that cold dread anymore, it wasn’t a paralyzing fear and pain, not like before he got to know him.

The first piece reached deep into his soul, reminding him of the beautiful, perfect little windows. It was filled with a bittersweet happiness that he felt when he remembered the arms around him, Viktor’s beaming smile, or the hushed voice next to his ear. When he listened to it, he wanted to close his eyes and just remember, remember until the love he felt overwhelmed him and made him cry soft, quiet tears. It was longing itself, the knowledge of the happiness, of the man he could have if he himself was just a bit… more, a bit better. The memories of what he did get to have, and the dreams of what it would be like to keep him, to keep Viktor by his side forever, never letting him go, never letting anyone else have him.

The second, the one Celestino found him for the free skate, was very different. It was the lonely nights, filled with loud sobbing, biting into his pillow, trying to overcome the pain of not being able to have Viktor, the deep, heartbreaking longing to hold him for just one second. The accuracy of the music shocked Yuuri. It was the other side of his longing, the one that wasn’t happy, or even just bittersweet, it was the longing that wrecked his heart, kept him awake at night, the longing that made him want to claw his shoulder until his mark was gone. It hurt, it hurt so deeply that when he first heard it, he almost said no. It portrayed his pain so well he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to skate it.

But it was perfect. The two pieces together were exactly what he needed to express his feelings for Viktor. It didn’t really matter that he would be the only one to know that these programs were dedicated to the older skater; nobody had to know what exactly he had in mind when he skated them. They only needed to see the end result.

When Celestino first saw him perform the finished routines, he told him he’d be taking home gold medals from everywhere this season.

***

Yuuko and Mari managed to visit. They only came for three days, but the happiness that swelled up in Yuuri’s heart when he saw them surprised even him. Of course, he knew he missed them, but he never considered that he’d be hugging his sister of all people for two full minutes when he saw her at the airport. It felt so good to speak Japanese, to have people by his side who knew him and whom he knew well. He’d spent over a year surrounded by people he barely knew, people he didn’t understand, people who confused and sometimes scared him.

The second evening, they bought half a liquor store (well, Mari and Yuuko did anyway) and curled up on Yuuri’s small dorm room floor, determined to drink it all.

“Yuu-Yuuri-kun, you have no alcohol tolerance” Yuuko giggled, nudging Yuuri’s side with her feet. Yuuri laughed happily, staring at the ceiling, feeling like he was floating.

“Weee-ll. I don’t drink. O-often.” The memory of sharing two bottles of wine with Viktor suddenly came to him, and he burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny about that?” Mari grinned at him, lighting her second cigarette.

“La-la-hahaha… Last time I d-drank” he tried explaining, the alcohol jumbling his tongue a little. “It was with Vi-Viktor Nikiforov” he said, then, unable to control his giggles any longer, rolled on his side.

“Wait, wait, wait.  _That_  Viktor Nikiforov?” Yuuko asked, her voice an octave higher than normally. Yuuri laughed even louder. Unbelievable, he knew it.

“ _That_ , yeah” he grinned at the bottle of beer in front of him. The girls started laughing as well.

“Sure, sure, and you didn’t tell anyone that you went out drinking with your idol-since-forever” grinned Mari. “No way in hell.”

“I did! We had dinner!” Yuuri exclaimed, shooting up, then grabbing onto Yuuko to steady the world that suddenly started spinning around him. “He pulled the chair out for me!”

Mari and Yuuko exchanged a doubtful glance.

“Nii-chan, are you really serious?” asked Mari, sizing him up. Yuuri started nodding vehemently, then sniffed and looked down at his socked feet.

“I-it kinda seems like a dream” he mumbled. “L-like it happened to someone else. He’s… amazing. He’s so beautiful, I don’t think I’ve ever met a man like him. I always thought he was very, very pretty. But, like, he’s not, I-I mean he is, oh, so beautiful…” he trailed off, grinning at the air. He shook his head after a moment. “But he’s, like, more? Funny, so funny. And cute. Shit, he’s so cute. The picture of Vicchan, and he, like cooed at it? I thought I was going to faint, he, he was the cutest person I’ve ever seen… And, he’s just… amazing. He really is” he finished, getting lost in his thoughts.

His mind was wandering, slipping into his memories. He was feeling the nice sort of longing. He thought of Viktor, laughing and chatting in the restaurant, and Viktor’s arms around him, his breath on Yuuri’s neck, the way he led him on the dance floor at the banquet.

“Wow. Yuuri-kun, you sound like… well, like you’re in love with him” Yuuko said, a small smile gracing her lips, although her eyes were still wide with surprise. Yuuri’s heart gave a few strong beats, and he almost started smiling himself, when the words really reached him.

He gulped and picked up his beer.

“Doesn’t matter” he mumbled, finishing the bottle in one long motion. There was a few seconds of silence.

“Yuuri, are you-“

“Nee-chan, you wanted to tell me something about Vicchan and gulls?” Yuuri stopped her sister before she could’ve finished the question. Even through the haze of alcohol, his decision to keep this secret to himself was a steely one. He wasn’t going to spill it just because he had a bit too much to drink.

“Y-yes… “

They didn’t mention Viktor’s name again during the rest of their time together.

***

“Relax, Yuuri.”

Yuuri exhaled shakily, letting the long fingers carefully massage him until the tension was gone from his muscles.

“That’s it. I’ve got you” the whisper came, right next to his ear, before there were teeth on his neck, gently nipping the skin, just on this side of tender.

“V-Viktor” he sighed, entwining his fingers in the long silver locks, letting his other hand gently caress Viktor’s nape. The Russian moaned quietly.

“That’s so good, Yuuri… I’ve wanted you to do that ever since I’ve seen you” he murmured, hands roaming.

There were more kisses pressed into his naked skin, and tender, long fingers on his body, making him feel like he was on fire, filling him with pleasing warmth, the kind only Viktor’s touch could achieve. A hand found one of his nipples, a mouth found the other. He gasped, tightening his hold in Viktor’s hair, whispering his name like a prayer.

“Yuuri, Yuuri” he mumbled, moving back up to kiss him, deeply, with burning passion. “I want you. I want you so much I might go crazy with it. Can I… Please, can I?” he asked, desperation slipping into his voice, blue eyes burning holes into Yuuri.

He smiled, then pushed Viktor so that he turned them over, now kneeling over the other man.

“Only if you promise me you’ll always be mine from now on” he whispered passionately. “Nobody else’s. If you’re willing to be mine, Viktor, you can have me, you can have all of me, too.”

Viktor gasped, gazing into his eyes, and pulling him down for an eager kiss that left them both catching their breath.

“I’m already yours, Yuuri. I’ve always been yours” he answered. That was enough for Yuuri. He kissed him again, letting his instincts take over, hands caressing the naked, shivering body under him. Viktor arched his body toward him in search for friction, and Yuuri pressed his knee between Viktor’s legs, kissing him again.

“Y-Yuuri” Viktor moaned, nails raking the skin on Yuuri’s back.

“I’ve got you” he shushed him, echoing his words, gently running his hands down Viktor’s thighs. “I’ll take care of you, Viktor.”

The other man pushed into his touch, his hardness pressed tightly to Yuuri’s thigh. He was trembling, desperately holding onto Yuuri, gasping his name, gripping his back. Yuuri himself was starting to lose control, pressing his own cock to Viktor’s leg, kissing and biting the man’s neck, steady hands holding Viktor down.

Viktor’s hand slid onto his shoulder, gripping his mark.

He gasped and buried his face in Viktor’s neck as he came.

***

Yuuri was very lucky that his roommate was away for summer vacation. He really didn’t want to change sheets in the middle of the night with someone else in the room. His face was burning just enough as it was.

It took him an hour under the shower to calm down.

***

The fact that he was about to enter the Grand Prix Series for the first time in his life didn’t actually register in his brain until mid-August. It was a completely new and different milestone, and he should’ve been freaking out.

Surprising both him and everyone around him, he wasn’t. He actually felt very confident and positive about the coming season, something he hadn’t felt in forever. He was feeling even better about his programs than he did during his last season at home. There was something about them that made him certain that, even if he wouldn’t win golds, he would at least medal everywhere. They were the best programs he’d ever skated, and that had to count for something.

He was working day in and day out, dedicating his summer entirely to perfecting his routines. He skated until he felt like his feet were about to fall off, and then some more.

Somewhere during the beginning of August, he took up pole dancing on Celestino’s recommendation as a new off-ice training method. It took his coach a handful of days to convince him that there was nothing wrong with that particular genre of dance. In spite of his original reluctance, he ended up loving the classes, and he found that they let him forget about the world almost as much as skating and ballet.

For once in his life, everything seemed to be going perfectly. His practice was going smoothly, he had been free of panic attacks for pretty much the entire summer, the only anxious thoughts bothering him were small and dismissible. He was happy.

***

“Remember, Yuuri, just like during practice. You can skate this program perfectly” his coach said, grinning at him from the other side of the bar separating them. Yuuri nodded confidently. He was nervous, true, but it wasn’t at all the sort of crushing fear he’d been struggling with before most competitions.

He could hear his name from the loudspeakers, announced in French and English. He skated to the middle of the rink.

Okay. You’ve got this, Yuuri.

He waved to the crowd with a slight smile, then turned his head and adopted a serene expression, his body going lax. The music started. He skated a few long, lazy strides, twirling around, slowly, trying to build the passion he felt into his steps.

Viktor, as he held him in his arms when they danced. Viktor’s smile, that gentle curve of his mouth as he looked at him. Viktor, beautiful, perfect Viktor, just beyond his reach, but oh, if he had him…

Triple axel. Perfect.

Walking on the beach in Hasetsu, Viktor and him, hand in hand, their dogs a few paces ahead, barking, playing with each other in the sunset. A big, empty rink, Viktor and him, skating, sometimes meeting on the ice, exchanging a loving glance.

Combination jump. The second jump just a tiny bit under rotated, but it would still qualify as a double.

Viktor and him having homemade katsudon, laughing over the food, feeding each other, curled next to each other by the table. The sweet warmth from Viktor’s body seeping into his clothes, making him feel comfortable, happy and  _home_.

Step sequence. The crowd going absolutely wild.

Viktor’s laughter, his happy, open expression, his eyes sparkling in the dimly lit room. Viktor holding Yuuri in his arms, softly murmuring Russian in his ear, the sounds of the night enveloping them.

Final pose.

He exhaled and started grinning. It felt so good to see and hear – or mostly hear, since he had no glasses on – the result of his hard work. It was clear that the emotion got through, the people in the stadium screaming his name as loudly as they could, the chanting of “Yuuri” filling the air. He did this. This was, for the first time in forever, truly him, it wasn’t about a lucky day, an exalted state of mind or anything similar: it was his hard work, all the time and effort he dedicated to this program. The result, the digits on the screen as he received his scores, were his and his only.

Two days later, he stood on top of the podium, a gold medal hanging in his neck, and finally, he felt like he deserved it.

***

Viktor was assigned to Skate Canada and the NHK Trophy. Yuuri was actually immensely relieved when he realized that the two of them would not have any assignments together, as he was in the Internationaux de France and the Cup of China. He didn’t mind not seeing Viktor for a while – meeting him always put a new spin on his life, set him on a new, different path, and right now, he didn’t need that. Meeting Viktor would’ve been a distraction that had the potential to ruin this season for him. Their separate assignments, however, meant that he would only see Viktor’s performances on screen, at the very best until the Grand Prix Finals – if Yuuri qualified, that is.

He waved these thoughts away, refreshing the live stream for the sixth time in the past hour. He couldn’t wait for the competition to begin. Nobody managed to catch a glimpse of Viktor before today, and he didn’t attend the public practice, making everyone wonder what might be going on with him. He wasn’t normally so elusive, although he had missed public practice a few times. He was quiet on his social media as well – not that Yuuri had been stalking his instagram or anything –, which was even more unusual.

“And with that, the second group takes the ice for warm up.”

“Is that Nikiforov? What’s on his head?”

Yuuri blinked twice. The commentators were right to be bewildered: Viktor had a big hoodie pulled over his head, covering his hair and most of his face as well. The limited field of view seemed somewhat dangerous, although thankfully for all those concerned, Viktor didn’t attempt jumps with a hoodie covering half his face. Yuuri watched on with doubtful eyes, listening to the commentators’ guesses. Personally, the best he could come up with in the six minutes was that Viktor had such a great composition made of his hair that he wanted to keep it for a big revelation.

Technically he wasn’t wrong. He was just… really thinking of something different.

He gasped out loud, momentarily forgetting about not wanting to bother his roommate.

Viktor’s hair was gone.

Okay, okay, not all of it, obviously, but the long silver locks, normally in a ponytail or a bun or a braid were reduced to an undercut, short little hairs that barely reached the top of his ears and bangs that covered his left eye.

He was still ridiculously handsome.

Yuuri could barely pay attention to the program – although it wasn’t as brilliant as last year’s short, so he wasn’t too worried about it –, he was too busy contemplating Viktor’s new looks. The haircut changed his entire demeanor somehow. He suddenly looked much older, as though he aged three or four years in the few months Yuuri hadn’t seen him. He’d always looked older to Yuuri of course, but looking back at his pictures and seeing him now let him see the kind of childishness that used to linger on his face that was now completely gone. Viktor was, without doubt, a man.

His program, as much as he could comprehend it, emphasized it too. It was the most masculine routine Viktor had ever skated: gone were the feminine, smooth, gentle movements, replaced by strength and power. It was shockingly new and different.

As much as it awed Yuuri, he couldn’t help but think it made Viktor’s skating lacking a little something it always had before. The little something that made him fall in love with his skating.

Obviously, he came first.

***

“You’re in the lead, Yuuri! You skated a personal best yesterday, you’ll take their breath away today. You are the best skater present. Go, sweep them off their feet!” Celestino grinned, winking at him. Yuuri smiled nervously, turning away from his coach. Somehow the words meant as an encouragement didn’t exactly help him. This was always a problem between the two of them: Celestino just couldn’t find the right way to deal with his nerves, and he didn’t know how to do it alone. Luckily, he wasn’t on the brink of a mental breakdown, confident as the previous day’s glory made him.

As the song started up, the crowd went quiet, a hush falling over the stadium, everyone looking at him with bated breath. He raised his hands, reaching toward the ceiling as if he were praying to some invisible deity.

He reached for Viktor. He wasn’t there to reach back. He never was.

He moved slowly, but with purpose, with a power, an emotion that nobody could belittle or turn away from. He’d always been famous for his presentation, and today, he would prove that to be true yet again.

He could see Viktor in front of him, always a step further away; as he skated toward him, he slipped away, as he mimicked his jumps, he was looking elsewhere. Viktor lit up so beautifully when he talked about his soulmate, the dreamy look on his face betraying how much he longed to find them, but Yuuri, he knew. The disappointment that awaited Viktor tortured him. He would be the one to have to tell him somehow.

What could he really do? He could only long, wish for him, dream of him, but he was never meant to have him. They were so far away from each other, even in spite of the mark on Yuuri’s shoulder and the mark on Viktor’s nape, the sharp edges and smooth curves that fit perfectly together. There was a distance between them that Yuuri couldn’t cross, not even if he kept trying for an entire lifetime. He could only keep trying, he could only spend the rest of his life looking at him, maybe, if he got lucky, meet him some more times, be with him for just brief, cruelly perfect moments.

Combination jump. Just like Viktor would’ve done it.

He loved him. God, he loved him more than he could’ve ever expressed it. These programs, his routines about the heart-wrecking longing he felt for Viktor, even these weren’t enough. All the raw emotion in them was only a friction of the hurricane of love and suffering in his heart. Viktor was everything in his life. He was the brightly shining, guiding star on the horizon, the reason he was where he was right now, the one and only constant in his life. Viktor would always be his inspiration, would always be the reason he kept going; and Viktor, he would never know.

Freezing-black nights alone, only the sounds of the city night disturbing the silence.

Quad. Triple-single-triple. Combination spin. Step sequence. Viktor’s beautiful eyes, the sharp edges and small circles that belonged to him. The sharp edges and small circles that he would never have. Quad.

Yuuri twirled one last time, before kneeling down on the ice, arms wrapped around him, his left gripping his soulmark.

He took home another gold medal.

***

With two gold medals, Yuuri had qualified for the GPF. It was actually sort of hard to believe if he was being honest with himself. As much as he had given this season so far, as much as he had been preparing and hoping for this outcome, it was still strange now that he was there. Looking at the names of the six finalists, it was astounding to see his own amongst them.

He’d met Viktor briefly when they drew numbers (he was fifth, Viktor was second), and during the practice sessions, but he avoided talking to him as much as he could. Not that he didn’t want to. Part of him ached to exchange a few words with him, but he was worried that something might happen that would throw him off balance.

He spent most of his time either with Celestino (who now only had two students to take care of, since David retired after the previous season) at the rink, or alone in his hotel room. He felt… prepared, surprisingly. The confidence he’d been carrying since the beginning of summer, the determination that helped him through the qualifiers hadn’t left him. He was sort of waiting for the inevitable drop to come, but he knew better than to tempt fate.

When he saw Viktor and Chris talking and looking over at him, he fled the scene immediately. He was  _not_  having another dinner with Viktor before a competition.

(Maybe, just  _maybe_  if everything went well in the next two days, he’d consider it.)

Actually, thinking about it now, Viktor seemed to be trying to talk to him. Yuuri caught the Russian man looking at him more often than not, and he had to avoid him on purpose multiple times during their days at the city before the competition. It was… weird.

As always, Yuuri had considered the possibility that Viktor had found out. It was, of course, completely impossible, and it only would’ve been a plausible explanation if Viktor was either able to read minds or had been stalking him while he was changing (that was actually a pretty scary thought, no matter how hard he had fallen for the guy). Other than this crazy idea, he couldn’t actually think of anything that could’ve possibly explained why Viktor was so eager to seek him out.

Okay, fine, maybe Yuuri did have another, completely impossible theory: Viktor was interested in him. Like… _interested-_ interested.

That theory, of course, bled from a million wounds, the biggest one being  _Viktor_  being interested in  _him_. That aside, Yuuri admittedly butchered every single occasion the two of them talked, acted uncomfortably awkward around Viktor at all times, was not a skating god, and Viktor wanted his soulmate. It was no question still that the other man was passionately wishing to meet his soulmate, and since he didn’t know it was Yuuri, he wouldn’t be interested in him. Everyone knew of Viktor’s infatuation with the mystery person. Everyone thought he’d never pick anyone else, long term.

Short term, maybe. Yuuri saw red if he thought about random strangers touching Viktor, if he considered the fact that the Russian was known to have casual flings. It angered him to no end that Viktor wasn’t his and his only. And the feeling was getting worse over time. Ever since that very first occasion when he saw Viktor’s soulmark broadcasted on TV, he’d been wishing not to have to share the other man with anyone, and honestly, the possessive thoughts worried him sometimes.

Not that he worried that much about what he’d be like in an actual relationship. He didn’t want Viktor not to speak with anyone else but him, he didn’t want Viktor’s entire life to be about him. He thought that if they were in a relationship, his feelings would quiet down. What he was worried about was that he  _knew_  they would never be in a relationship. And that meant that one day, after Viktor finally gave up on finding him, he would most likely get together with someone else – maybe even get married, have kids.

The thought made him want to punch something. He wanted Viktor to be happy, he really did, but… imagining him with someone else was hard enough if he imagined him in bed with them. Thinking that Viktor would one day take long walks in the city with someone else, go home to someone else cooking him lunch, cuddle up in front of the TV with someone else, raise a child with someone other than Yuuri, go to sleep every night with someone else lying beside him was the most cruel torture for him. And the worst part of it all was that it was inevitable. It was coming. With every year that passed with Yuuri not responding to Viktor’s call, it was more and more likely that Viktor would give up.

Yuuri sighed deeply and sprawled out on his hotel bed.

This was not exactly the relaxing train of thought he’d been looking for on the night before his first Grand Prix Finals.

***

“Gentlemen, your warm up has ended. Please leave the ice.”

Yuuri sighed deeply, skating off the ice, sneaking a glance at Viktor. He had decided not to watch the other performances before his own, as painful as it was to miss seeing him skate live. He needed to be calm and focused, and while sometimes it helped to watch the others, other times it completely ruined his confidence. He had the inkling that this time it would be the second version.

“Yuuri, wait a second!”

He was already turning to walk away from the rink when he heard the voice with the thick Russian accent behind him. He looked over his shoulder.

“Viktor?”

The man smiled at him, striding over to where he was standing.

“I just wanted to wish you good luck for the short today” he said, extending a hand toward him. Yuuri found himself smiling. Viktor was such a nice person to compete against.

“You too” he answered, shaking Viktor’s hand. “Although I’m sure you won’t need it” he laughed, a bit embarrassed. Viktor grinned.

“We’ll see. Thanks anyway” he nodded. They stood there awkwardly for one more moment, then Yuuri mumbled something about continuing his warm up, and walked away with a vague gesture.

Viktor’s good luck wish stayed with him while he waited for his turn. Once more, he thought about the possibility of being close to Viktor. Even if he couldn’t be the soulmate Viktor wanted, maybe they could be more than friendly competitors, maybe they could be friends, keep in touch outside competitions… and maybe, he thought while stretching, with a dreamy look on his face, maybe that could slowly evolve into something more, something…

“It’s time to head back, Yuuri” Celestino said with a grin. Yuuri smiled back and nodded. He was definitely in the mood for his program, and he didn’t feel the usual anxious nerves gnawing at him. He was nervous, of course, but he knew that was normal. If the competition mattered at all, you couldn’t be not nervous.

“Representing Japan: Yuuri Katsuki!”

He smiled and waved as he skated to the middle of the ice. He couldn’t see much, but he thought he caught a glimpse of a patch of silver hair in the audience. It might have been his imagination; then again, that was what he had. Imagination.

Imagination that showed him a beautiful life with Viktor. The conversation earlier was still fresh in his mind, so he thought of Viktor’s smile, the way his cold blue eyes seemed to fill with warmth whenever he looked at Yuuri, the way he lit up when he talked about things he loved. He proceeded with the program, jumps landed with precision, spins executed with beautiful posture, the emotion in the performance never wavering. Viktor was right there, so close to him. Maybe in a world where Yuuri wasn’t the way he was, a world where he was better, more worthy, Viktor would be there to welcome him at the kiss and cry, kiss him for the whole world to see, beaming with pride at the sight of Yuuri’s achievements. They would still compete against each other, but they would do it together, cheer each other on, and maybe Viktor would be there when he faltered in his confidence to help him keep moving forward.

He could barely hear the cheering of the audience, so deep in his thoughts, so concentrated on the program he was skating. He felt light on the ice, and – even though he didn’t know whether Viktor was actually watching – he could feel the blue eyes following each of his movements with unwavering attention.

After all, that was the key moment in all of these daydreams, wasn’t it? When he was there, Viktor couldn’t take his eyes off him.

A quad toe loop, almost the end, one more combination spin, final pose.

Yuuri rarely ever thought so, but he felt like he’d just skated the best performance of his life.

“Yuuri, that was perfect! Beautiful performance! Come here, kid!” Celestino shouted, grabbing him and hugging him so tightly Yuuri felt like he was going to suffocate.

“C-coach, c-can’t breathe” he groaned.

“Sorry, sorry. That was brilliant! Honestly, Yuuri, that had to be your best performance yet!”

The man kept going, prompting a happy grin from Yuuri, who put his blade guards back on and walked to the kiss and cry with his coach. He felt just as giddy as Celestino. He was absolutely sure that this would turn out to be a new personal best.

The scores that came in were pretty much unbelievable. Yes, his routine did have high enough base score that if he performed perfectly… and of course he’d always had his opinion about  _that_  program not being  _his_  best but…

He was one and a half points ahead of Viktor Nikiforov.

He was in the lead.

***

Yuuri was in a daze for the rest of the day. It was hard to believe that he was actually having a good chance at the gold medal tomorrow, with  _Viktor_ in the competition. He had been sitting at the edge of his bed for that past hour or so, trying to figure out how he felt about the situation.

Figure skater wise, competitor wise it was clear. He was so proud he felt like he could burst. Gone were the days when he felt he was just lucky to end up with scores like this. He knew how hard he worked for these results, he remembered each night when he ended up with bleeding feet and purple bruises all over his body. This was his achievement as a figure skater, and he was proud of it.

Personally…

Maybe he wasn’t a complete waste of space. Maybe Viktor didn’t see him as such either. On the other hand, he might be furious at him for beating him to a victory, even if it was just for one half of the competition.

He had a lot to think about, and he wasn’t sure how he would get any sleeping done at this rate.

Suddenly, his phone rang out. He was startled out of his thoughts.

It was his sister. Maybe to congratulate him? Nobody in his family called him yet, although they normally talked after his SP was done, so it was more than time for them to.

“Hi, nee-chan!” he greeted happily.

“I’m-I-I’m s-sorry, Yuuri!” Mari’s voice sounded muffled, and almost like she’d been crying. Yuuri had never seen his sister cry.

“Mari?” he asked, suddenly concerned. Something had to have happened, and he had to know what it was.

“H-he… I s-swear, I thought… we were down b-by the beach, I w-was sure…” She stopped and actually sobbed. Yuuri’s heart clenched in empathy and fear. “I looked away for one second, I-I swear it wasn’t more and then there were gulls and you know how he is… I-I-I t-tried, I-I ran after him, b-but I didn-didn’t reach him in time a-and there was a c-car a-and the vet couldn’t, h-he tried, I’m s-s-so sorry Y-Yuuri” she cried.

Yuuri felt numb. He understood what Mari was trying to tell him.

He ended the call.

***

Two hours later, he was still sitting at the edge of his bed, in the exact same position he had been in when his sister called. There were tears streaming down his face, and he was staring at that very first photo of him and Vicchan. He would never see him again. Vicchan, his dear, tiny, loving Vicchan would never greet him again when he stumbled home after a grueling practice session. He would never curl up next to him in bed when he couldn’t sleep. His little, furry body would never snuggle up to Yuuri to comfort him. There would never be tiny, excited barks filling his room early in the morning.

Vicchan was gone. The dog who had been there for him for his entire struggle through starting his figure skating career, through the crushing pain of realizing who his soulmate is, through the long nights filled with endless tears was gone. And he couldn’t say goodbye.

He’d never even considered that something might happen to Vicchan while he’s away in Detroit. He’d always thought Vicchan would be there to welcome him home when he got to go home next summer or something, whenever he had the time. But now, now he knew Vicchan wouldn’t be there. There would only be a small shrine and an unmarked little grave somewhere in the garden.

Vicchan was gone. His brain kept coming back to that simple sentence, trying to comprehend what it meant, trying to understand it. It felt like something short circuited, and he couldn’t process the information.

Vicchan was gone.

He’d never see Vicchan again.

He couldn’t say goodbye.

He couldn’t-

He couldn’t-

He-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say I'm sorry! T.T One of the first things I've promised myself when I decided I wanted to write YoI fanfic was that I will never-ever-ever kill Vicchan in a story. But... plot reasons.
> 
> I've always felt especially sorry for Yuuri about his dog dying without him being there; I have a little doggie at home myself, and sometimes, when I spend a long time in the city I study at, I get worried about her well-being. I love her a lot, and I'm dreading the day she'll leave, and I'm especially afraid that I might not be there when it happens. So yea, I feel so sorry for Yuuri, and I've cried when I wrote, proof-read and proof-proof-read the end of this chapter.
> 
> Less sad things!  
> Yuuri's short: Secret Garden - Song For a New Beginning: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOpdDS_Cwgs  
> Yuuri's free skate: Secret Garden - Appassionata: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijKuoVoEB84
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed the chapter, please let me know your thoughts in the comments :)
> 
> See you next Saturday with more angst \o/
> 
> P.S.: You can also find me on [my YoI blog on tumblr](https://yoitookovermylife.tumblr.com/)!


	6. The Grand Prix Final of Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning about what happened to Vicchan, everything around Yuuri seems to crumble to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: thank you for all the comments and kudos, you guys make writing this fic a real adventure for me!
> 
> Second, a little bit of explanation concerning this chapter:  
> This chapter was hard as hell, and it's actually almost two thousand words shorter than the previous ones. I'm really tired (from work, mostly), so I've lost a bit of momentum - also, this chapter is probably the deepest pit of angst that I've ever written, and there was a point where I had to pull up the most fluffy things I've ever read to get myself through writing it.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter gave me the most trouble since chapter three, mostly because I've written everything I've planned for this chapter in three thousand words, and, since I'm aiming for the chapters to be about the same length, realized that I'm still missing about three thousand words more. That's not a great realization when you're actually done writing everything you wanted in a chapter :D
> 
> However, the real reason this ended up so short is that the heat here became pretty much unbearable around here during the previous week, with an honest to god 40+ degrees celsius yesterday, so I've been working slower than normally. I've planned on expanding the chapter with a thousand or two words this afternoon after work, but I've had a pretty bad panic attack, and couldn't get it done the way I wanted to.
> 
> Even though this chapter is shorter than the rest, it has the scene that I've first started building this fic upon, so it's a pretty important one.
> 
> A bit of warning: remember the depressive episodes tag? This chapter is the reason that's there. There is desrecptions of depression in this chapter, so if you think that's something that might trigger you, tread carefully. The most explicit (in this sense) part about that is the one that begins with "After getting back to Detroit, Yuuri sort of… dropped." That part also contains mentions of self-endangering behaviour which I suppose could be read as implications of self-harm.
> 
> Enjoy~

To say that Yuuri was unfocused was a major understatement. He could barely pay attention to where he was or what he was doing, and he was constantly fighting to keep his tears down. He couldn’t have recounted warm up, even though he felt sore in places, probably indicative of falling. He couldn’t remember it.

Before he knew it, he was standing on the ice.

Longing – he thought to himself. Trying to get in touch with the feeling, however, seemed like an impossible task. The only thing he could feel was crushing grief, and that had nothing to do with the program he was about to skate.

He started skating a split second later than he should’ve, and the performance was doomed from that point onward.

He was trying, he was trying harder than he ever was, but there were so many angry whispers in his head that it all amounted to nothing. He felt like all of the empty spaces inside him had been filled to the brim with pain.

That was supposed to be a quad, he touched down there, he fell.

After the third fall, he didn’t hurry to get up. The program was lost and over, no matter what he did now. There were tears dripping onto the ice, no matter how much he tried to stop them.

It seemed that no matter what he tried, he’d never succeed in any of it.

Suddenly, the cheering of the crowd reached him. He didn’t know why they were clapping, why he was getting all this praise from them, but it was enough to get him to stand up from the ice. He was done with jumps, there was only about half a minute left of the program. He bit his lips, steeled himself, and pushed through, picking up the choreography in time with the music.

He assumed his final pose, and then kneeled on the ice, giving himself a second to break apart. This was a failure like no other. This sort of self-destruction during a program was below even him. And here he was, thinking he actually had a shot at winning the Grand Prix Finals.

But you did – whispered a spiteful little voice inside his head –, you did, you know, and you missed it spectacularly.

He pushed himself back up, skating off the ice. Celestino was standing right there, a look of pity on his face. Yuuri wanted to punch him. He would’ve preferred anger or disappointment over  _pity._  He didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for him. He wasn’t that weak quite just yet.

The cheering of the audience was the only thing that got him all the way to the kiss and cry. It felt different than Celestino’s carefully measured looks of comfort. It felt like genuine empathy, even if it came from a faceless crowd of people. Or… maybe exactly because of that.

He cringed when he saw his scores. He probably broke both the record of amount of time needed to fall from first place to last (four and a half minutes)  _and_ the record of lowest score ever received for a free skate in the GPF. He buried his face in his hands. Suddenly, all those moments agonizing over his feelings of failure when he ended up fourth or fifth seemed so arrogant.

He only remembered one drop like this.

His very first Worlds, seeing Viktor – and then getting back to the hotel and realizing that he’d never be good enough for him.

Funny, he thought while slipping away to find a bathroom to cry in, since the news reached him yesterday, he hadn’t thought of Viktor once.

***

Yuuri was alone in his room. After ignoring every call he got during the afternoon, it seemed as though his family and friends finally gave up on reaching him, because his phone stopped buzzing.

And yet, here he was, sitting on the floor, leaning to his bed, scrolling down a sport news site.

 

Grand Failure at the Grand Prix!

 

Yuuri Katsuki – Nervous breakdown?

 

i always knew that some japanese nobody couldn’t…  _See more_

 

he seriously underperformed today i’m sure…  _See more_

 

Russia’s star is still at the top!

 

obvs Viktor would be the one to win even if kats…  _See more_

 

Originally, he’d started reading articles because he was hoping that the people who had cheered him on even after he fell would be present on the internet as well. Instead, he found an overwhelming amount of belittling, people who thought he was never worthy to win, people who said they’d always known he wouldn’t be able to beat Viktor.

 

Katsuki should just quit. It’s obvious he’s not made for the stress and…  _See more_

 

They were probably right. His failure was one of the most spectacular ones in recent skating history. No wonder people said he should quit, no wonder they thought someone like him would never be worthy of finally taking the gold from Viktor’s grasp.

It seemed clear that nobody had ever believed in him. And surely, they were right. He proved them right, didn’t he? He wasn’t worth the praise or the trust. He was a failure, just like he always had been, and just like he will always be.

Yes, yes, his dog got hurt. (His heart gives a painful thud at the thought.) But if he didn’t, there would’ve been something else, there would’ve been a different excuse he could be using. The truth was, he wasn’t good enough. If he was, he would be able not to get distracted by something like this. He couldn’t even tell Celestino that it was because his  _dog_  died. The man would’ve laughed at him, as would everyone else.

Yuuri didn’t want to hear anyone say that Vicchan was just a dog, and that his death doesn’t validate such a failure.

 

katsuki choked :( i like his skating but todays performance was horrible. i didnt think hed be the type to fuck up like that :\

 

w/ever happened it doesn’t matter. I’m seeing all u ppl excusing his terrible skating with “smth must’ve happened” and shit, but the truth is he didn’t deliver what everyone had been expecting. that’s just sad.

 

Yuuri heard a choked sob, and it took him a second to realize that the sound had come from him. He was crying again, big, fat tears rolling down his face, blurring his vision and making it impossible to keep reading.

Maybe that was for the best.

The lines from the articles and comments had already become hateful voices inside his head anyway.

***

Yuuri didn’t want to be here. Sponsors who didn’t even look his way, some pitying looks from the other skaters, way too many people for his fragile state and  _Viktor_. Celestino dragged him to the banquet, no matter how much he tried to ask and beg for him not to. He’d been trailing after his coach for twenty minutes now, trying to look at least somewhat dignified, like someone who didn’t have all his dreams poured down the drain.

Damn it, he needed a drink.

He looked around, trying to locate something with alcohol, and he luckily locked his eyes onto a table filled with champagne glasses. He glanced at Celestino, who was deeply engrossed in a conversation with another coach. Well, now or never, right?

He turned away from the man, carefully maneuvering between the groups of people. And then, he saw the obstacle.

Right there, about two meters from his goal, stood Christophe and Viktor. It was only the two of them, and they seemed to be whispering between each other, Viktor shaking his head and apparently trying to explain something to Chris.

On the one hand, they seemed really occupied with whatever they were talking about, so maybe Yuuri could slip by them. On the other hand, maybe there was another table with drinks, or he could go around in order not to have to pass by the pair. He looked around, trying to find another way to get to the champagne, before mentally berating himself. Was he really cowardly enough not to have the galls to walk by Viktor? He sighed, then, determination plastered over his face, continued walking.

The conversation was obviously in a different mood now, but Yuuri didn’t care. He didn’t care how close the two of them suddenly seemed to be standing. He just wanted to get past them, he just wanted a drink, he just wanted to get past them, he just wanted a drink, he-

The mantra might have worked.

Viktor had decided to open his mouth right as Yuuri arrived within two feet of them.

“Do you like my soulmark? Maybe you could take a closer look at it later in my room.” Viktor  _winked._

Something snapped.

“Look at you. So desperate you’d have just about anyone.”

The words were out before he could stop them.

It seemed as though everything that had happened so far during the Finals came to an inevitable, horrid climax. All of it, the things that he’d gone through in the past couple of days were just too much to bear, and this, an offer like this from Viktor to someone else, especially linked with his soulmark like that broke something in Yuuri. The jealous anger he’d been trying to contain refused to remain bottled up for any longer, and it burst out in these hateful, harsh, disgusted words, said barely above a whisper.

He felt like a hush fell over the banquet hall, even though obviously nobody except for Chris, Yuuri and Viktor heard the sentence. Viktor was staring at him with open shock and hurt on his face. Yuuri wished he could take it back the second he said it, but he knew it was too late. There was no taking it back and there was no point in apologizing.

Viktor opened his mouth.

Yuuri fled the scene.

***

He was standing in front of the elevators, breathing heavily, as if he’d just ran a marathon, even though he was only about fifty steps away from the newest catastrophe he had caused. He noticed that his hands were trembling. He could feel the panic curling in his stomach as his words had sunk in.

In just three days, he had lost his dog, ruined his career and made his soulmate hate him.

This had to be some form of a new record in itself.

Footsteps.

Please don’t be Viktor, please don’t be Viktor, please don’t be Vik-

“What the hell, Yuuri?!”

Oh no.

Yuuri turned around, facing a Viktor who had obviously traded shock for anger. His face was unusually expressive, showcasing his turbulent emotions. Hurt was still there. Yuuri felt immensely ashamed.

“What?” he asked, turning to stare at a particularly interesting crack on the floor.

“What do you mean what? What was that about? Desperate enough… What the hell made you say something like that to me?”

The questions were loud and intrusive, Viktor refusing to give him space to breath. He knew he was shaking violently now. He felt like an animal pushed into a corner.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” he whispered, even though he wanted to bite his tongue off as he was saying the words. “You’re so scared of being alone-“

“Shut up” Viktor snarled, suddenly so vicious that Yuuri had to look back up. There was unveiled pain and fury on Viktor’s face. “You don’t know anything about me or what I’m going through. You don’t have the right to say things like that.”

The elevator dinged. Yuuri burst out laughing.

“I feel so sorry for you” he choked out, between laughter and tears. He felt like he was falling apart, tearing into pieces right in front of Viktor, but he didn’t care anymore. He suddenly realized that nothing mattered anymore. Vicchan was dead, his career was in ruins and Viktor hated him. There was nothing left, and  _Viktor_  had the nerve to say  _he_  didn’t have the right.

He took a shaky step toward the elevator.

“I fe-feel so sorry f-for you, V-Viktor” he repeated, loud sobs interrupting the sentence. “Y-you must have su-such a terri-ble burden o-on your sh-sho-shoulders! T-top of the wo-world, a-adored he-ro, could ha-have any-one you wa-wa-wanted… I-I feel so so-so-sorry!”

Viktor stared at him, and Yuuri could no longer read the emotions on his face. Maybe he was losing his perception skills in the storm he was caught up in, maybe it just turned into something more complicated than before, maybe Viktor was trying to hide them; he didn’t really know. He didn’t try for too long.

He turned away, stepped into the elevator and pressed a random button. He slumped to the wall, holding eye contact with Viktor until the door separated them for good.

So this was it.

He’d lost him forever.

***

After getting back to Detroit, Yuuri sort of… dropped.

Everything.

He started missing classes and skipping practice. He started eating a lot of stuff on the big no list – or not eating at all. The Nationals were still there, and he knew he’d have to go, and he practiced his routines, but the feeling was lost. As perfect as the programs were at the beginning of the season, he couldn’t seem to connect with the emotion in them anymore.

It wasn’t just that he couldn’t feel the same kind of longing for Viktor. He actually seemed to have trouble feeling anything. There was this big empty space inside of him, and he didn’t know how to fill it. He knew what that longing felt like, he remembered the feeling, but he just couldn’t truly… feel it.

Celestino was uncharacteristically worried, so he kept telling him he was fine.

(Some part of him hoped that if he said it often enough, he’d believe it himself.)

He spent long hours lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t… thinking about things, really, he was just… lying there. He felt like something that used to be part of him was gone. Like his heart had become so overwhelmed it gave up trying to keep up with the emotional storm of his life, and just stopped feeling.

He thought that maybe he was depressed. He vaguely thought that maybe he should see a professional about it. He thought that maybe this was hurting him worse than anything he’d done before.

But he finally stopped feeling.

It was too good to try to get his emotions back again.

He was fairly sure that there had been multiple events that occurred between the GPF and the Nationals, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember any. He spent his time in a numb daze, letting the days pass by him, watching them in a passive, vaguely interested mood. He got up in the mornings, went to the rink, skated, failed, failed and failed, went back to the dorms, got into bed, and either slept or stared ahead.

Sometimes, he thought of Viktor, but that resulted in a deep, painful pang in his heart, so he tried to avoid it. Even after all this, all the suffering and crying and slipping from reality, Viktor was the only thing in this world that could still coax something like a feeling from his heart.

It hurt so much, he could only balance it out by freezing showers and unnecessarily painful falls on the ice and, if it got that much, punching a solid object.

He’d found that the physical pain was easier to bear.

***

By the time of the Nationals, Yuuri was relatively better. He was still deeply hurt, and he still had trouble not getting completely detached from his feelings, but he managed to climb out of that pit of emptiness he had fallen into, and stop causing harm to himself... at least for most of the time. However, his partial recovery came a bit too late to save him at the Nationals.

He’d been cruelly cutting into his practice time, and it showed. His jumps were shaky, and the programs had lost their appeal. He knew he could never perform them the way he did before the finals. He also knew that his season was going to be over at the Nationals, not counting smaller competitions. He would’ve needed to win to get to other international competitions, and he knew he wasn’t in the right state to do that. And even if he did… he didn’t want to go. He needed some time to compose himself, and fretting over competitions wasn’t going to help him.

Surprising himself more than everyone else, he actually didn’t butcher his programs completely. Of course, they were lacking, and he did mess up some of his jumps, but it wasn’t absolute catastrophe category. He ended up sixth, not qualifying for anything, just like he knew he wouldn’t.

He wasn’t too disappointed.

He wasn’t actually sure if he was or not. Maybe he just couldn’t summon up the energy to feel it.

***

Sitting in front of his laptop, Yuuri still wasn’t actually certain if he wanted to watch Viktor’s performance at the Euros. Thinking of Viktor, and what had happened between them, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to lose himself in the older man’s skating ever again.

He wanted to try.

Besides, he didn’t see the Russian Nationals, he hadn’t seen Viktor skating in forever. The way the man moved was a magic spell, a drug, one that Yuuri was so hooked on he couldn’t live long without his next fix. He had to see him on the ice again.

“And here comes Russia’s brightest star, Viktor Nikiforov! The list of his achievements goes on for longer than any other skater’s in history. So far this year, he’d won both his Grand Prix qualifiers and the Grand Prix Finals, along with the Russian National Championships. With Swiss skater Christophe Giacometti still not at the top of his game after his injury last year, and Japan’s Yuuri Katsuki out of the picture for the rest of the season, it seems highly likely that he will go on to easily win both the European and the World Championships.”

Yuuri grit his teeth. Damn all the commentators.

“Representing Russia: Viktor Nikiforov!”

He glided to the middle of the ice, smiling and waving at the crowd. Yuuri felt his stomach turn.

The execution was perfect, and Viktor was beautiful, and his jumps were flawless, and it was too much, and Yuuri had to close the stream one and a half minutes into the program.

He couldn’t bear to see him. It seemed that the overwhelming pain that managed to break through even his weeks of numb depression was still there, although harder to trigger. Thinking of Viktor didn’t do it anymore, but apparently seeing him skate was too much. His heart was racing, and he suddenly realized he was crying again.

He snuck a glance at his roommate. He was staring at him. He bit his lip, shoved his laptop aside and escaped toward the bathroom.

***

“I’m moving out” Jordan said one morning without any prompting from Yuuri. He looked up, quite certain that the surprise he felt was written all over his face.

“Really?” he asked, sizing up his roommate.

“Yeah. My parents will rent me a place, because the dorms are horrible. I’m leaving in two weeks.”

Yuuri gaped for a second. Jordan never struck him as someone whose parents would have enough money to rent a place for a single person for most of his university years, but apparently, he was wrong. Still, he nodded and turned back to his laptop.

He couldn’t help but think about what this meant for him. This was a two-person room, so someone will surely be moved into it to live with Yuuri. If he was lucky, he’d be able to get through the summer alone, but he had no idea how to handle a new person so deep inside his personal bubble. Not that he particularly liked his roommate: if anything, they tolerated each other. But Yuuri was feeling good and optimistic about his life when they’d met. How was he going to get used to living with a new person in the state he was in? Jordan was, by now, relatively used to Yuuri locking himself into the bathroom in a weak attempt to hide his tears, and didn’t question him when he didn’t eat for a day, or when he refused to leave his bed or shower.

How was a new person going to behave? How was Yuuri going to manage to trick them into thinking he was a functioning human being?

He did have a bit of time – if he was lucky, that “bit of time” was a whole summer – to figure it out. That should’ve comforted him more than it did.

***

“No, Yuuri, you-“ Celestino cut himself off and sighed. Yuuri stopped. He was trying to perform one of his old step sequences (to get him back into the mood, his coach said), but he was failing horribly. The problem wasn’t even the technical execution of the steps, he got that down. It was… well, the same thing it’d been since the GPF. Lack of emotion.

“Get off the ice and come over here. Katie, I’d like to see that spin again!”

Yuuri slowly skated to the exit. There was another lecture coming, he knew it. There wasn’t much point in these exchanges anymore: Celestino always said the same, meant to be encouraging words, and Yuuri never took any of it away.

He brushed the ice off his skates and put his blade guards on, before walking over to Celestino. The man gave him a sideways glance and called over to the woman on the ice.

“Okay, keep practicing that! I’ll be with you in a minute!”

He turned to Yuuri and gestured toward the locker rooms.

“I’d like to have a few words with you, Yuuri” he said, expression more serious than normally. Yuuri gulped. Suddenly, thoughts of what might happen in the next few minutes filled his head. Celestino did offer to take him on as a student, but that was an offer he could take back at any time. Maybe he’d finally had enough of Yuuri’s stumbling and wanted to tell him off. Maybe he wanted to kick him out, or tell him to stop skating for good, just like everyone already wanted him to.

“Come on, sit down.” The man gestured to the benches, and Yuuri flopped down next to him, resolutely staring at the lockers across from them.

“Yuuri… I don’t understand you” Celestino started. Yuuri had to stop himself from snorting. Big news, coach. “You used to be one of the best, most emotional performers out there, including Viktor Umpteen Times World Champion Nikiforov. Even when you made mistakes, that core, that complex, deep emotional background, that grace and strength had always been there. There’s a reason you barely ever ended up lower than sixth. Your performance had been your saving grace for every other mistake you’ve ever made. Tell me, Yuuri, explain it to me, because I don’t understand… What happened to my best skater?”

Yuuri didn’t even realize he’d started crying until he felt Celestino’s hand on his shoulder.

He jerked away.

“Nothing” he spat, unexpectedly vicious. “Nothing happened. I was never a good skater. I just used to work a lot harder” he grit out through his teeth, then reached to untie his skates. “I’m done for today” he added.

Celestino, uncharacteristically, just sat next to him until he was done.

“You are a good skater, Yuuri” he said finally, just as Yuuri started stuffing his skates into his bag. “You are and you always have been. Whatever happened, you owe yourself to rise above it.”

Yuuri stopped, staring at his coach for a second, then shoved his bag off the bench and ran.

***

He left his phone, his wallet and his papers in his bag when he ran out of the training rink, but he didn’t care. The storm of emotions waking up inside him all at the same time fueled him as he ran, barely avoiding colliding with multiple people. Before he’d realized how far he was, he’d made it halfway to the dorms. He didn’t even know what he was feeling. He was upset, obviously, somewhat angry with Celestino, but he also felt a million other things. There was pain and shame in there, but there was also a feeling of being deeply moved by the genuine faith his coach had in him. He slowed to a walk, breathing heavily, trying to slow his heartbeat.

You are a good skater, Yuuri.

You owe yourself to rise above it.

It must have been just a bad day, he’s such a brilliant skater otherwise!

Something must’ve happened, Katsuki is so much better than this performance!

You are and you always have been.

He was sure there were tears on his face again, but he couldn’t and… didn’t want to stop them.

After getting home and taking a long, hot shower, he spent the rest of the day crying into his pillow, finally letting his emotions flow through him.

The last thing he thought of before drifting off to sleep was that he hadn’t felt this light in months.

***

Celestino showed up at his doorstep the next day, with his phone and his duffel bag.

“I thought I’d get these back to you” he said, and, before Yuuri could’ve had time to thank him or even just blink, he continued. “I’m sorry I upset you so much yesterday. I was hoping that maybe I could figure out what’s going on with you. I didn’t mean to-“

“No” Yuuri shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I…” He took a deep breath. “I think I n-needed that. Y-you know, l-like… getting it o-out?” He stumbled over the words, having a hard time talking about his feelings. The only reason he even tried was that he didn’t want Celestino to think he had hurt him. He was feeling better than he was in forever, and he had his coach to thank for that. Even if the man didn’t really know what he was doing, it seemed that he managed to open up a sort of dam, one that kept him so far away from his own feelings. Yuuri wasn’t sure how permanent this change will be, or how on earth he could explain this to Celestino. It didn’t seem to matter that much.

“That’s good to know, Yuuri” the man smiled. “There was another thing I wanted to-“

“Maybe don’t overdo it, coach” Yuuri interrupted hastily, making Celestino laugh.

“Don’t worry, it’s not connected. Still, it can’t really wait too much. I wanted to tell you about a new skater I’ll be taking on from the summer. He’s from Thailand, he’ll be coming to study at this university as well. I was thinking maybe we should try to arrange for him to be able to move in with you? I don’t know if it would be okay with your roommate” he explained. Yuuri glanced at the empty bed on the left side of the room.

“He’s moved out last week. I… I wouldn’t mind” he said, trying not to let his true feelings slip. He wasn’t over the moon that this… Thai skater, whoever he was, was going to move in with him. But he’d always known someone would, and maybe, if he was a fellow skater, it’d still be better than a complete stranger. At least he knew this would be someone with whom he’d have at least a single shared interest.

“Great! I’ll try to get it arranged! Take today off, Yuuri, but I expect you tomorrow at the rink, ready to get to work!” Celestino grinned, patting his shoulder and exiting.

***

Days flew by – Yuuri was still trying to get his enthusiasm to wake up –, and the date for the arrival of Yuuri’s new roommate slowly inched closer. And when the day came, Yuuri realized he is in no way prepared for this. He’d had a particularly bad panic attack the day before (after the numbness of depression mostly subdued, the attacks returned), and he was still on edge. He’d tried to clean up a bit and make himself presentable, but he couldn’t stop the anxious thoughts nagging at the back of his head.

Would he be easy to get along with? Would he tolerate Yuuri? Would being with him both at practice, at university and at the dorms prove to be too much?

The questions seemed overwhelming, and if the knock on his door would’ve happened any later, he probably would’ve introduced himself while in the middle of another panic attack.

“C-c-come in!” he called, wincing a bit at how unsteady his voice sounded. He took two deep breaths as the door opened. Calm down, Yuuri. It will be okay.

“Hey, Yuuri! I’ve brought your roommate” Celestino greeted with a smile, stepping aside to let the boy into the room.

Yuuri took a quick glance at the short boy, taking in his tan skin, dark eyes and dark hair, but he was quickly distracted by the smile that seemed to light up the entire room.

“Hiii! I’m Phichit Chulanont, nice to meet you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! Yuuri has officially reached rock bottom, so the only way for him to go is up!
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed the chapter, let me know your thoughts in the comments :)
> 
> See you all next Saturday, with a properly lengthy chapter and a LOT of Phichit Chulanont saving the day/year/this fanfic from having a tragic ending!


	7. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri finally realizes that he can't keep going the way he used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first of all, big apology for being late with this week's chapter. I've made a post on tumblr yesterday, saying that I won't be able to post the chapter. This is pretty much the explanation: I’ve had a pretty hectic week, and didn’t manage to finish the new chapter of The Marks On Us for yesterday. I thought I’d be able to write it yesterday after work, but it was my last day at this summer job I’ve been doing, and I was feeling really down. This chapter, however is about recovery, and it’s supposed to be a positive chapter. With the mood I was in, I didn’t think I could write that. Coming home after six weeks away made me feel much better, so I could do it today.
> 
> I hope the chapter itself will compensate, since it's exactly what I've promised you last week ;)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for all your comments, all the kudos and bookmarks and subscribtions. Knowing that there are people out there who enjoy this story makes me really happy.
> 
> Enjoy!

Yuuri had quickly come to realize that Phichit was made of pure sunshine. And with his arrival, it felt like Yuuri’s own life suddenly jolted back on the right track.

Obviously, he didn’t get miraculously cured, but a lot of things changed. Whenever he thought back on that year and Phichit’s first arrival, he always thought of it as the catalyst for everything that happened after.

Phichit was, beyond doubt, his saving grace.

***

At first, it wasn’t easy to get used to him, just like Yuuri knew it wouldn’t be. Phichit was full of energy, always babbling on, and in the first few days, Yuuri felt completely overwhelmed by his presence. He thought they were complete opposites, and he was somewhat intimidated by the constant excited chatter surrounding him. However, he got used to it in a shockingly short amount of time. By the second week, he’d learned how to filter the things Phichit said, and how to manage paying attention to the important bits.

At around the same time, he found himself deeply amused by the Thai boy. Not that he was always joking, but his enthusiastic view of life, his unwavering excitement and energy was contagious. Yuuri was feeling better about his life than he had in a long while, just by listening to Phichit going on and on about social media, or an encounter he’d had in the city, or a problem he’d had with English. He laughed more than he’d had in years. It felt like some sort of light that disappeared from his life was now reignited, like he’d just remembered that life could be full of exciting, wonderful things.

He didn’t ponder too much about whether this was an improvement in his general mental state or just a temporary fix. He wasn’t feeling like standing under a freezing shower until he couldn’t feel his toes and fingers anymore, and he didn’t have to fight himself as much as before to get out of bed every morning, and that was all he cared about.

If Phichit’s animated stories provided him with a fix that got him through the day, he was okay as long as Phichit was there.

(Some part of him knew that this was no solution to his problems. He was too happy about being able to notice the way the sun shined brightly in the afternoons when they were walking back from practice to care too much.)

***

“Yuuri, I know you’ve had a rough time, but I can’t give you forever. We will have to come up with some programs” Celestino said, frowning at him. He gave the ice a few small kicks with his toe pick.

“I know” he muttered. He glanced over at the others on the ice.

“I can pick something for you if you want me to, you know that” the man offered, but Yuuri shook his head. He did trust Celestino, but…

There were things he wanted to say. They were vague for now, and he didn’t know how to express them, even in words. He didn’t know how long it’d take for him to formulate them, to turn them into a program. He wasn’t sure it’d happen in this season, but he wanted to wait until the last second before he let Celestino come up with programs for him.

“Thank you, coach, but I’d prefer to come up with them myself” he answered, voice surprisingly steady. He could see the bewilderment in the man’s eyes too. Celestino nodded slowly.

“If that’s what you want. I can give you one more month, tops. If you can’t come up with anything until then, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to do it. Whatever we agree upon, you’ll need time to learn and practice it, so we can’t come up with a routine one week before your first competition” he winked. Yuuri managed a smile.

Celestino, as per usual, wasn’t helping as much as he thought he was.

***

“Come on, Yuuri, you’ll love it!” Phichit exclaimed, pushing Yuuri’s wallet and phone into the Japanese’s hands.

“Phichit, I really don’t think…” he tried.

“You  _are_  thinking, that’s exactly the problem! Stop thinking about it, Yuuri, and come with me! You don’t even have to buy anything, or even try anything on, just escort me if that’s all you’re willing to do! Pleeeeease!” the Thai boy begged, giving his best puppy eyes. Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh. Phichit had spent the past hour trying to convince him to join in on a shopping spree, and his resolve was wavering.

After all, Phichit did say he didn’t necessarily have to buy anything, right?

“Fine” he sighed.

“Yes!” Phichit shouted, throwing both fists in the air, jumping. Laughter burst out of Yuuri. The younger skater’s enthusiasm always spread to Yuuri, making him giddy in the best of ways.

***

An hour of commuting and some elbowing through crowds later, they were finally standing in a shop, Phichit dragging Yuuri along by the hand to show him some crop tops.

Yuuri wasn’t particularly interested in crop tops, even less in how they’d look on him, but he’d decided to indulge Phichit for a bit. He even helped the Thai boy pick a particularly bright yellow one with a sun symbol on it, claiming that it was pretty much made for him to wear, and that it looked absolutely perfect on him.

He was having an unexpected amount of fun.

Buying clothes was always a dreaded occasion. Nothing looked good on him, and even if something did, it was probably incredibly expensive, and, if it was by some miracle a perfect fit with an affordable price, he still had to wait in lines and awkwardly maneuver around other people in the shops. He hated it.

With Phichit, however, the horrid procedure turned into an infinite funfest. The younger man tried on clothes that were completely horrendous, took selfies in the best and worst things he put on himself, second-guessed himself every two minutes, dragged Yuuri left and right, asked him about his opinion in a completely serious tune even when he was wearing neon-green, glittery high-heels with the most disgusting bright pink sparkling dress Yuuri had ever seen.

Phichit was getting changed back into his clothes, so Yuuri started walking down the aisles, looking for something ridiculous to recommend to Phichit, when he noticed a rack full of  _really_  nice shirts. He wasn’t one for shirts that much, he’d always preferred casual wear, but these pieces looked really good, and it’s been a long while since he’d gotten a new one. He walked over to them, liking them more by the second, right until he looked at the price tag. He bit his lip.

Technically, he could’ve easily afforded it, but it seemed so much for just a shirt. Of course, they were made of some really nice material, and, as previously established, caught the eye quite a bit, but…

“Yuuri, you picked something, didn’t you?” he heard Phichit’s voice from behind his back. He shook his head with vigor.

“I j-just took a brief look!” he exclaimed. Phichit frowned and shook his head.

“Yuuri, come on! Okay, okay, when was the last time you got yourself something? More specifically, new clothes?” he asked, stepping in front of Yuuri to stop him from being able to walk out of the conversation. Yuuri turned to stare at his feet.

When did he last buy new clothes for himself? He could remember a pair of pants he had to buy a few months back, because he had to throw a previous pair out, but…

There were also the costumes, although those hardly qualify as clothes…

He couldn’t answer the question. He searched his brain for any sort of reply, for any memory of him, in a shop, buying some new shirts or a nice pair of shoes, and came up empty handed.

“Yeah, you’ve been thinking way too long. Now! What’s your size?” Phichit grinned, turning toward the rack, sizing up the shirts with a critical eye. Despite himself, Yuuri grinned at the sight.

***

By the end of the day, they were both holding three bags of clothes, and Yuuri was feeling amazing. There was the slight guilt about how much he’d just spent on clothing, but rationally, he knew that he was careful enough with money that this wouldn’t cause an actual financial problem. And… he was giddy about getting back to the dorms and unpacking all his new things. He’d completely forgotten how good it felt to have a bagful of new clothes, ones that they’d carefully picked, ones he’d be excited to put on for the first time when he got up for the next few days.

It was more than that, however. Ever enthusiastic Phichit had spent half the day complementing him, how good he looked, how well those pants fit his thighs, how well that particular blue looked on him, how he was positively stunning in the full outfit Phichit picked for him, and… it seemed honest.

Some people have commented on Yuuri’s appearance before, but he’d never believed them. He thought they were being polite, or, in his mom’s case, blinded by affection. However, he couldn’t accuse Phichit of either. He was a truly honest person if Yuuri had ever met one. He wouldn’t compliment him the way he did if he didn’t mean it, and he would’ve – and did, actually – told him if he picked something that didn’t look good on him.

Surprisingly, he found that he trusted Phichit. He smiled to himself gently as he dropped the bags on his bed.

“Haaaaah” Phichit sighed, stretching. He dropped to sit on the ground, then grinned up at Yuuri.

“So, are you having fun so far? You look like you’re having fun so far!”

Yuuri laughed.

“I am. Thank you for this afternoon, Phichit. I…” he trailed off. He didn’t know how to explain what he felt, or if he should try at all. He didn’t want to admit to his weaknesses, but he wanted Phichit to know how much he’d done for him. His help, his mere presence in his life did more for him than he ever could’ve repaid.

“I’m glad, Yuuri” Phichit smiled, dark eyes full of gentle understanding. Yuuri returned the smile with one of his own.

“So! Makeup!” the boy said, jumping up and ending the moment. Yuuri blinked, watching as the Thai skater started rummaging around his bags.

“Makeup?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes! I want to put makeup on you! I think you’d look smoking hot with some dark eye shadow and blood red lipstick, and I want to see! Can I?” Yuuri started at him for a few more seconds, then started laughing.

“Well, this day is about indulging you, so… yeah, you can go ahead” he grinned. Phichit gave a victorious cry, and returned to his search for his new makeup tools at the bottom of one of the bags.

***

It was barely even intentional. Yuuri wasn’t sure how he happened to Youtube-surf his way right into one of Viktor’s skating videos. He was looking at some new names he didn’t notice in skating before, and somehow, one video after another, he ran into that particular World’s where he first saw him.

Everything rushed at him at once. Standing on the sidelines, watching  _him_ , staring at his mark, not seeing any obstacles, for once, no darkness in his vision. And the crushing realization, and the distance that couldn’t be crossed, and the hurt and anger in those blue, blue eyes that could be inexplicably warm and incredibly cold too, like they could be fire and ice, and he saw both, and the elevator closing between them, separating them forever, and he’ll never have him, never have him, never have him-

Catching his breath. It seemed as though there were dark spots in his vision, and his throat was feeling too tight. Part of him knew what was happening, but the realization that he was having a panic attack only made it worse, only scared him worse. He knew what was happening, but he didn’t know how to stop it, how to make it better.

He heard the door opening.

He started shaking even worse.

Oh god, Phichit is about to find him like this. He has to stop him from realizing what’s happening, about how weak he really is, how he’s-

“Yuuri? You okay? You look pale!” he heard the worried voice. He tried to take a deeper breath and smile at him.

“I’m fine” he said, voice higher than normal. He was visibly shaking, he knew it, and his smile had to look fake.

“You don’t… look fine” the Thai skater said, taking a careful step closer, looking Yuuri up and down. “Yuuri, you’re shaking!”

Yuuri shook his head.

“I’m fine, I’m okay, don’t worry” he answered in a rush of words. Phichit frowned at him, and kneeled down in front of him, a careful hand on Yuuri’s knee.

“Take deep breaths, Yuuri. You’ll be okay” he said quietly. Yuuri shook his head again, wanting to tell him that he wasn’t going to be, that he never was, that everything was in pieces and Phichit couldn’t put it all back together, but the words were stuck in his throat.

There was a minute of silence.

“Hey, Yuuri, have you ever seen photos of Celestino when he was younger? It’s a blast, come on, I’ll show you some!” Yuuri blinked, and blinked again. He didn’t understand what was happening.

A second later, there were hilarious photos and Phichit’s wild imagination and big mouth and Yuuri, although still shaky, almost forgot about what he was freaking out about in surprise and sudden urge to laugh. After about twenty minutes of a constant stream of funny videos and jokes and pictures of cute animals, he slumped against Phichit, who was now sitting next to him on the bed.

He felt so much lighter. Usually, after a panic attack, all he wanted to do was lie down and not have to move for a few hours, but now, he felt… surprisingly alright. Not that he was feeling perfectly calm, happy and collected, but he didn’t feel as exhausted and on edge as he normally did. He’d always thought that not being alone during an attack would be even worse, that someone else there would make him feel vulnerable, weak and ashamed, but right now, with Phichit, he felt nothing like that. He felt safe. Phichit didn’t let him fight through this alone.

“Thank you” he said after a few minutes of silence. Phichit’s arm came around his shoulder as the younger boy hugged him closer.

“Anytime, Yuuri” he smiled. His smile was still pure sunshine, and made Yuuri smile too, weakly, shakily, but not fake anymore.

“What happened?” Phichit asked after another couple of minutes. Yuuri bit his lip and looked away. “You don’t have to explain. I’d just like to know” Phichit added quietly.

“I… I…” Yuuri sighed and glanced at his friend. “I’ve never really talked about this” he admitted. Phichit nodded and tightened his hold on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Yuuri, if it’s a secret, I’ll keep it to myself, if you’re afraid to talk about it, I won’t judge, if you think it’s shameful, I won’t look down on you for it. You have my word.”

Yuuri looked at him for a minute and smiled happily, suddenly having to fight tears. He knew Phichit meant it. It was strange, or should’ve been, since he’d only known him for about a month, but it felt like they’d been friends since forever. Phichit made his way into his heart with surprising speed and ease. He knew he could trust him. And these things… all of them… it was too much for him to bear alone. He’d suffered so much, keeping it all a secret, never telling anyone, never letting anyone closer than he had to… maybe he deserved to finally have someone else to talk to.

“I… I was having a-a… well, there’s this thing… I… sometimes the nerves get too much and I h-have panic attacks, and that was t-that. But, like, they’re, I mean, I don’t know if-“

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to explain yourself, I believe you” Phichit assured him. He sighed. It was harder to talk about this than he thought it would be.

“Thank you, sorry. So yeah, that was that. It happens sometimes, when I overthink too much. I t-tend to do that” he continued.

“Sometimes? How often is sometimes?” Phichit interrupted.

“W-well… I mean, not that often, it’s only like, three-four times a month, so-“

“What?! Yuuri, are you telling me that you think having pretty much weekly panic attacks is normal?!” Phichit cut in again, voice sharper and unbelieving this time. Yuuri nodded meekly.

“I-I mean it’s been like that for a while” he said quietly. Phichit shook his head in disbelief.

“Okay… well, it’s not normal, Yuuri.” He gave Yuuri a minute to consider that.

“So… with the risk of making it happen again… what was this one about?” he asked. Yuuri tensed up and looked away again. “You don’t have to tell me” Phichit added in a hurry.

“No, no, I… I think I want to” Yuuri said, shaking his head slowly. Phichit nodded, eyes hung on Yuuri, clearly paying attention to anything that would come out of his mouth.

“It’s… I was thinking about… my soulmate” he managed, turning away. He could feel Phichit’s focused gaze upon himself.

“You know them?” he asked, when he realized Yuuri wouldn’t continue on his own.

“Yes. He... we met a few years ago. We…” he hesitated. As much as he wanted to tell his friend, he didn’t want anyone else to know if he didn’t even tell the man himself. How could he explain everything that had happened between them? What would be the right way to go about it? How could he explain how much he cares about Viktor and how little Yuuri means to him? How could he tell him everything while telling him nothing about the actual person?

“I’m not good enough for him” he ended up saying, still not looking at Phichit. That was the gist of it, after all. The reason why they couldn’t be. Yuuri wasn’t good enough.

“Fuck that” he heard Phichit mutter next to him. The swearword from the Thai’s mouth was so out of character, he had to look up at him. Phichit’s mouth was set in a strong line, his brows furrowed in an angry scowl.

“Listen here, Yuuri Katsuki” he said, turning toward him, grabbing him by both shoulders. “You are an interesting, funny and all around amazing person. If anyone,  _anyone_  tries to tell you otherwise, I’ll beat them up so hard, they won’t even remember their own names afterwards. And if your soulmate doesn’t want you, he does not deserve you. Understood?”

Yuuri stared at Phichit for a few more seconds, before the tears he’d been holding back finally won the battle and started rolling down his face.

Surprising both his friend and himself, he threw himself into Phichit’s embrace.

***

Yuuri did figure that some things would change after telling Phichit about all those things he told him about. What he didn't expect was Phichit waking him up early in the morning a few days later, excitedly waving a notebook in front of Yuuri’s face.

“It’s done!” he exclaimed, beaming with pride. Yuuri blinked slowly, frowning, still trying to wake up and figure out what the hell Phichit was talking about.

“What’s done?” he asked in a raw voice.

“Your self-care plan!”

Yuuri blinked once. Twice. Three times.

“My what?”

Phichit rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh.

“Come on, I’ll make you some coffee and explain!”

It took Yuuri twenty minutes and two coffees to wake up enough to be able to focus on Phichit. He, of course, realized his more awake state in a second, and started talking again.

“So, you with me?” he asked. Yuuri couldn’t help a laugh.

“Yes, Phichit, I’m with you. So what are you on about?”

Phichit grinned and put the notebook in front of him.

“So, after our talk a few days ago, I thought maybe there was something I could do to help, and I’ve started surfing the net. I found a million tips about how to deal with stuff like what you’re going through. I mean…” he hesitated for a second, glancing at Yuuri and sighing. “Technically, you should probably see a psychologist before anything else.”

“No way” he said, shaking his head vehemently. If there was one thing he wasn’t willing to do, it was having a stranger try to pry his biggest insecurities and problems out of him. Besides, he wasn’t ill or anything. He didn’t need a doctor.  Phichit kept looking at him for a moment longer, and then put his hands up in defense.

“Okay, fine, I knew you were going to say that. Still, keep thinking about it, please. I’m more than ready to help you find one if you change your mind.” Phichit gave him a minute to consider it, but after watching him sipping his third cup of coffee with a stoic face, he sighed and decided to continue.

“So, other than that, there are some other things you could do to make yourself feel better. I’ve gathered the best stuff, I mean the stuff I’ve heard the best things about. All sources seemed to say that different things work for different people, so test them all, and do the ones that actually help you. Go on, check it out!”

Yuuri bit his lip as he glanced down at the notebook in front of him. He never really considered that there was anything he could… or should do. Of course, he noticed that the jumpiness and the attacks got worse in the past few years, but it had developed so steadily that he’d never considered that maybe he needed to do something differently. He’d never asked for help, he’d never looked for solutions, because he didn’t think there was any point to do so. It was just the way he was.

Phichit mentioned other people dealing with the same problems.

Maybe he wasn’t as alone with this as he thought he was.

He opened the booklet.

Breathing exercises, confidence exercises, list of helpful applications, a page of “I need a hug without questions” slips, lists of positive self-speech tasks, empty pages for writing therapy purposes, little messages from Phichit, full of positivity and love, descriptions on how to deal with anxiety and panic attacks, and a million other little things lay in front of Yuuri.

He had to fight the urge to smother Phichit in hugs again.

“I hope you’ll be able to put some of into good use” the Thai boy smiled, brightly. Yuuri gave way to a teary laughter.

“So you’ve been sitting in the library because what, you found a book you loved but couldn’t be borrowed?” Phichit grinned widely and shrugged.

“Well, I couldn’t work on this here, could I? Do you like it?”

Yuuri smiled happily.

“I love it, Phichit. Thank you.”

***

It wasn’t easy at first. Waking up every morning, looking in the mirror and telling himself everything he could think of that he loved about himself. Smiling at himself in the mirror. Not forgetting about regular breathing exercises. Fitting an hour of reflective writing into every day. Breathing exercises before bed. Listing his new achievements every three days.

All of those things and more, things from the Notebook, things that he thought he could manage to do.

Slowly but surely, however, they became easier. He looked in the mirror in the morning and had a fix list that he didn’t even question anymore. He stopped having problems remembering how many seconds of breathing in and breathing out belonged to each exercise. He always found something on the third evenings to write up as a new achievement.

He didn’t realize the change he’d been going through lately until a random Wednesday morning of looking at the mirror after combing through his hair.

 “Wow, you look really great this morning, Yuuri!” he exclaimed, smiling happily, taking a closer look at himself. “Your eyelashes look spectacular.”

Suddenly a thought hit him.

Somehow, at some point, liking the person looking back at him from the mirror became the new normal.

Years upon years of turning away from mirrors, of hateful little glances, of harsh, disgusted voices in his head. Mirrors were always terrifying, forcing him to face the reality of who he was, of how little he was worth, of how he would never be more than just Yuuri. Running from his reflection, avoiding mirrors, hating what he saw: it was normal.

Except now it wasn’t.

Because he was Yuuri, and he was so much more than what he let himself be before, of what he’d believed of himself. The reality of what he was, that was what the mirror showed. Except now, he didn’t think that reality was disgusting.

He smiled at the mirror again, proud.

He didn’t think he was truly beautiful or good or worth as much as Phichit and his family and some others seemed to think. But now, he was having a new beginning, where he wanted to be more, where maybe, after enough time and effort, he actually could be.

Later that day, barely meeting the time limit he got, he told Celestino that he was working on his programs, and had a theme.

After all, what could possibly be a better theme for this particular season than new beginnings?

***

So, as it turned out, having a theme before having even the slightest idea of music that would actually fit it was not very beneficial.

Yuuri gave a whining sound and let his head fall down on the desk with a loud thump. He’d been listening to all sorts of music in the past three hours, and he’d found absolutely nothing that could even possibly work with his theme. None of them made him feel like that moment in the morning when he looked in the mirror and realized what a long way he’d come.

“Everything okay over there?” Phichit asked from his place at the other desk, scrolling through some website.

“No? I’ll never find the right music” Yuuri answered miserably, turning his head to the side, clicking around the page, not even really looking at it.

“Oh, come on, you will sooner or later!”

“How much later?” Click. Click. “I don’t have forever with this, Phichit, there is kind of a time limit here.” Click. Click.

“Maybe you should ask Ciao Ciao, I’m sure he could help” Phichit recommended.

“No way!” Yuuri exclaimed, shooting up, stopping the random clicking. “I want these programs to be my own, and you know… well, maybe you don’t, but you will know what he’s like! It’s not always easy to convince him that I know what I’m doing with my own routines, and I don’t want him to pick the music instead of me if I tell him I haven’t found anything!” he explained. Phichit huffed and shrugged.

“I’ve already recommended everything I could think of. You’ll just have to keep looking” he said, tone signaling the end of the conversation as he turned back to his own screen. Yuuri sighed and turned back to his own screen, taking a better look at what was playing.

History Maker. That didn’t sound like a bad title actually. He rewound to the beginning and started listening again.

His heartbeat picked up.

This song sounded just like the positive self-talk exercises he’d been doing. It felt just like the new power he’d started finding within himself.

“Phichit! Phichit, I’ve found one!”

***

Celestino was skeptical. The music, he said, was strikingly different from what Yuuri normally skated to; not only was it much, much more fast paced, it had lyrics, and it was, indeed, immensely positive. For the first time in forever, Yuuri stood his ground fiercely. He wanted this piece, he wanted it to be his short, because it was the early days, standing in front of the mirror and telling himself that he was good, that he wasn’t what the poisonous whispers said he was.

His insistence managed to convince his coach, and together, they whipped up a program that Celestino had immediately deemed humanly impossible. Yuuri couldn’t wait to get on the ice and make it into reality.

***

“Wait, wait, come on, seriously? Your friend made this?” Yuuri asked for the second time, half his attention still on the beautiful piece of music playing from the stereo.

“Yeah” Evelyn grinned. She was a year above Yuuri, and had been helping him catch up with his studies once a week since the end of the semester. She had some conservatory student friend, and wanted to show Yuuri some of her music after they were done studying, apparently not capable of containing her excitement.

“It’s one of her best pieces. She has so much talent, I think she’ll be able to become a well-known musician one day!” she went on. Yuuri nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. He’d been listening to a lot of music lately, still not having a piece for his free skate, so he’d know…

The idea came out of nowhere.

“Hey, uh… does she, uh, do commissions m-maybe?” he asked. Evelyn nodded with a bewildered expression, which quickly turned into understanding.

“Oh, right, you’re a figure skater. Yes, she does. Do you need her email?” she asked with another big smile.

“Y-yes please” he nodded shyly.

***

Dear Yuuri,

find the finished piece enclosed. I hope I’ve managed to capture the emotions you’ve described in your previous emails. Please get back to me on what you’ve thought!

As we’ve agreed, I can still make some changes if you need me to.

Sincerely,

Catherine

***

“Yuuri! Yuuri, I swear I didn’t mean to, but my laptop froze, and I wanted to check my emails, but you were still logged in, Yuuri, it’s here, come on, we have to listen to it!” Phichit jabbered excitedly, almost jumping up and down, gripping Yuuri’s arm.

After the initial surprise, Yuuri felt the cold fingers of anxiety slowly creeping around his heart.

This music was his only hope. He didn’t stop looking when he’d commissioned it, but he still didn’t find anything he could skate to. If the music wouldn’t be good enough, he had no backup plan, no second best. The commissioned piece had to be exactly what he was looking for.

Phichit dragged him to his desk and pushed him down in the chair.

“Start it! Come on, I want to hear it!” he nagged. Yuuri smiled weakly, amused at his friend’s behavior even through the fear. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing thoughts in his head, and clicked play.

***

Dear Catherine,

it’s perfect. No better word for it. Thank you so much for your hard work on this piece. I hope I can do it justice with my skating.

Sincerely,

Yuuri

***

Yuuri started working like a man possessed after both programs were ready for him to learn. He knew he started working on these pieces much later than normal, and that he’d have to give his everything to them to be able to skate them to their full potential. They were hard programs. Incredibly demanding, especially on the endurance side. Even with Yuuri’s stamina, he felt like he was pushing himself to the very end of his strength, and then he pushed a little further.

He fell into bed like a log after every day at practice, but the routines were becoming clearer and clearer every day. When he skated, he started finding the routines he’d imagined in his own movements, he executed more of the jumps at the end of the programs, he became more polished, and needed shorter breaks. He knew he’d be able to perfect them.

The feeling moving him was powerful enough to get him through it. Celestino couldn’t stop praising him, couldn’t stop wondering aloud how he was himself again, his performance all emotion and power. Yuuri didn’t want to correct him, but he knew better.

He wasn’t the Yuuri who had skated the Song For A New Beginning and Appassionata. That Yuuri was behind him now. That was a Yuuri who couldn’t see any further than Viktor, a Yuuri who was blinded to his own worth. A Yuuri who thought that being as good as Viktor was the only way to be good enough.

He, however, knew that being just like Viktor isn’t what made him into a good person. He knew that even if he wouldn’t be enough for Viktor – that was one truth he’d never questioned, no matter how much nicer thoughts he had about himself –, he could still be good enough for everyone and everything else.

This Yuuri wasn’t last year’s Yuuri. He wasn’t back. He was reborn.

***

It was never a question that he’d take Phichit to the tailor who made his new costumes. His opinion was always honest and clear, and Yuuri needed his help. He commissioned the costumes alone, after long hours of thinking about them and consulting with Celestino. Technically, he knew he should’ve brought his coach along as well, but Ciao Ciao – Phichit’s nickname was starting to stick – was out of the country for the weekend, and he couldn’t wait two more days to see the costumes.  They weren’t done yet, they needed to be adjusted and fully sawn, but they would already look pretty much like the end result.

After the compulsory greetings, the man led them over to the two outfits lying on a table.

“Oh my god, Yuuri, this looks amazing!” Phichit exclaimed the second they laid eyes on the free skate outfit, ignoring the other one for now. The Japanese skater laughed at yet another display of Phichit’s constant wonder about the world around him, but was just as pleased with the result.

The costume had a dark blue top with silver threads woven into the fabric, glinting even in the normally lit shop, making him think about how beautiful it will look under the blinding lights of the stadium. The pants were a simple black. It was nothing extravagant, but that fit the program Yuuri and Celestino had built.

“And here is the other one” the tailor said, extending his hand toward the short program costume. Yuuri took a glance, but let Phichit fawn over it first, as he lingered by the side of the middle aged man.

“About the free skate one…” he started tentatively.

“Yes?”

“Would it be possible to… have two sets of sleeves for it?” he asked. “I-if it’s not too much trouble!” he added quickly.

The tailor eyed him for a second, making him squirm uncomfortably, then turned to the costume.

“Well, I can do that of course. I suppose you would like the two different sets to be interchangeable? he asked. Yuuri nodded fervently.

“And what would you like the other set to look like?”

Yuuri stayed silent for a second, then exhaled.

“I’d like it to be transparent” he said carefully, slowly, with a determination filling his voice. He was suddenly very thankful Phichit was busy taking photos of the other costume.

“Alright, I’ll have it ready when you come for the finished versions. Any other changes you would like?”

Yuuri shook his head with a relieved smile.

“No, thank you very much!”

“Yuuri, come one, look at this! It’s so good!” Phichit exclaimed, grabbing his arm. Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh, taking a step to be closer to the short program outfit.

“I’m right here, Phichit” he said, then took a better look at the costume. The Thai boy was right: it did look great. The top of the short costume was pretty much the opposite of the free. It had a white base, splattered with every color in existence, very fitting the energetic music of his program. It had mostly been Ciao Ciao’s idea, but seeing it done, Yuuri had to admit that it did look amazing.

Yuuri was thoroughly impressed. Finding a new tailor for his skaters was probably the best choice Celestino had made this season.

“You’re right. These are perfect” he smiled. “Thank you” he said, turning toward the tailor, bowing slightly.

He couldn’t wait to be able to skate his programs in these clothes.

***

He was alone when the costumes arrived to the dorms. It was his day off, but Phichit had practice, so he had to try them on without him around to be the judge of what they looked like on him. Not that he hadn’t seen them before.

First, he tried the short program outfit, enjoying the way the light fabric caressed his skin. He put History Maker on, going through a few movements with the costume on, watching himself in the mirror. The costume fit the music perfectly, and not in the least, fit him as well.

Opening the other package with the free skate clothes, the first thing he came across were the transparent extra sleeves. He gulped, putting them aside for now, quickly changing into the original version of the costume. He loved it. He did. He thought it was amazing from the moment he saw it in the shop, but…

He glanced at the transparent sleeves still sitting in the box.

He asked for them for a reason. He had to try it on.

Changing the sleeves was surprisingly simple. In less than ten minutes, he was wearing the second version. He felt exposed. For a long minute, the old fear of facing himself in the mirror took over him again, making him fix his eyes on his bare feet, trying to find a good reason to box this set of sleeves forever.

Somehow, he managed to beat the tempting thought, and lifted his head.

There, on his shoulder, his mark was clearly visible.

That was the point.

That’s why he had this set made.

Seeing it in front of him still made his heart beat faster and harder. Even after all those days of looking in the mirror and teaching himself to like what he was seeing, he had a hard time looking at his mark. It bore so much hurt, so many painful memories, so much suffering connected to Viktor that he was afraid that even looking at it would push him over the edge.

Right then, however, it wasn’t the reason his heart was pounding. It was because he’d just realized the amount of courage he’ll need to go through with his plan.

***

Yuuri had long gotten used to trying his costumes on one last time the night before the competition before packing it with the rest of his skating gear. He could only sleep soundly if he knew for a fact that everything was okay with them.

In the dark hotel room in Barcelona, with only one bedside lamp turned on, he couldn’t help but feel completely wrong as he looked himself up and down in the mirror. The costume he was wearing was the first version, the one that he’d already won two Grand Prix events in. He could skate about ending a long, painful chapter in his life in this version perfectly, he had proven as much.

Still…

He glanced at the other set of sleeves lying on his bed.

After five minutes of standing completely still, he suddenly got moving, getting out of the costume, changing the sleeves and packing the whole thing.

He needed to wear the other version.

It was time to be truly finished with the lies and the secrets.

This was a new beginning, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed the chapter, please let me know your thoughts in the comments ^^
> 
> A few words on Yuuri's mental health developements: in my personal experience, recovery is much, much slower than this. The sort of recovery he's going through here took me literal years. However, there is a plot to move forward, so I've sacrificed a bit of reality to speed it up a bit. Remember, recovery doesn't happen from one day to the next. It's a slow progress of less and less angry voices in your head, of having more and more days of wanting to get out of bed and noticing more and more things worth living for around you. I hope that if any of you struggle, one day you'll have a moment when you look into the mirror and realize that somewhere along the way you've learned to love the person looking back. That realization is worth fighting for, because it's one of the best things I've ever felt in my life.
> 
> Sorry, I got a bit emotional :')
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and I'll be seeing you all next... well, either Friday or Sunday, because I won't be home on Saturday. (Friday is much more likely, since I can't wait to write the next chapter, so I'll most likely be done with it earlier :D )
> 
> P.S.: You can also find me on [my YoI blog on Tumblr](https://yoitookovermylife.tumblr.com/)!


	8. Irrelevant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor finally finds out what Yuuri had known for years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you all so much for all of your comments, the kudos (thank you also goes to the people who click on kudos and are met with that evil smiley face telling them they can't leave any more kudos here), the bookmarks and the subs. You guys are amazing, and leave me feeling absurdly anticipatory for the new chapters, even though I'm the only one here who actually knows what's going to happen :D
> 
> So it's Sunday, I had more to do during the week than I thought I would and so I could only finalize this today. But it's done and I love it. I had always been really excited for this chapter because *spoilers*.  
> Also *spoilers* and *spoilers* so *spoilers*  
> .....  
> you know what? I'll tell you the rest of this after you've read the chapter.
> 
> I hope you will all enjoy this!
> 
> P.S.: There is references to alcohol abuse in this chapter. Again, I don't think it's very explicit, but better safe than sorry :)

Viktor learned about the meaning of the marks on people when he was a first grader. He’d never seen his own mark, only those of others, and since his parents had never told him about it, he’d just assumed he didn’t have one. It was only in school when they had a teacher explain their meanings to the class that he understood what they were and what they meant. He practically ran all the way home, and nagged his mother until she drew his for him.

From that day onward, it was his biggest dream to find his soulmate. Yes, skating was almost as important, but only almost. Every time he met a new person, be it in Russia, at home or when he was away on a competition, the first thing he looked for was their mark. Meeting new people, to him, always meant potentially meeting his soulmate.

He was, otherwise, quite lonely. People didn’t care much for him, beyond his skating and his fame, and it wasn’t like he came from a warm, loving family home. Maybe that was why he couldn’t stop dreaming about the One, the one who was meant for him, the one who would want him, the one who would care.

For him, the mark was the promise that one day, he’d stop being alone. He’d never cared about the people who quoted statistics and waved numbers around; somehow, in his heart, he knew he would find his soulmate, no matter how unlikely it seemed.

As he got older, he grew more and more impatient and maybe worried as well.  He was twenty two when he’d decided that he had to take action.

See, his reasoning was always simple, and one he’d never tried to hide: his soulmate, whoever they were, had to be interested in skating, at least enough to know about Viktor. It was the second most important thing in his life, right behind finding his soulmate, and whoever they would turn out to be, there was no way that they didn’t even know about the sport that was his whole world. Therefore, putting on costumes that showed off his soulmark would probably get his message across.

After skating two seasons with absolutely no response, he started wondering if maybe he was wrong.

Then, he started thinking that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t actually meant to be with his soulmate. Not only that, but his soulmate probably either wasn’t alive anymore, or – and that was even harder to accept – didn’t care about him.

If they had anything to do with anything that was important in Viktor’s life, they could’ve found him already.

It was upon that realization that he finally gave in to the magnetic pull that seemed to keep calling him to Yuuri Katsuki.

***

When he first met Yuuri, he didn’t think much about the stuttering, jittery kid. He felt a bit sorry for him – he looked really young, probably new to the senior Worlds, and skating second to last must have put a lot of pressure on him. However, that was his first year of showing off his soulmark, and he was still giddy with excitement to step on the ice in a costume like that, so he didn’t pay that much attention to him. Since he only had this, fleeting impression of him, he was really surprised to find the boy standing next to him on the podium.

Still, if it wasn’t for the praises Chris kept singing about him, Viktor probably wouldn’t have decided to Google his performance.

Maybe, he thought later, in bad moments, it would’ve been better if he’d never seen that performance. Because from the second it was over, he was doomed never to forget Yuuri. He watched every routine he’d ever done that he could find, and although there were good ones and bad ones, none was as spectacularly perfect as the one he’d performed at the Worlds.

He talked Christophe’s ear off, constantly analyzing Yuuri’s skating, thinking about how he could improve further, trying to guess what direction he’d be taking during the next season, which then slowly turned into how cute Yuuri was, how he could be strikingly different, looking like an innocent puppy one second, and the slayer of men in the next, and how he seemed like one of the most interesting people Viktor had ever met.

Of course, it was just infatuation, not something he hadn’t been through before. A slight crush, combined with adoration for his professional work. When the Japanese Nationals rolled about, he was a giddy mess not because of Yuuri as a person, but Yuuri as a brilliant skater, if last year’s Worlds was anything to go by. And the anticipation he felt about seeing him at the Worlds again when he learned Yuuri had qualified was mostly about being able to compete against him again, this time knowing what he could do, how he could skate.

That completely aside, when Chris came up with the idea of a dinner for the three of them, he’d jumped at the opportunity to learn more about him.

As awkward as the evening started, the more time he spent with Yuuri the louder his previous thoughts had become. He’d realized, and he’d realized fast, that spending just a few hours with this man easily solidified his shaky, “possibly, maybe, could be” feelings for him. He was honest and kind, his laughter seemed to make the room brighter in a way he’d never seen anyone else’s do, and being with him turned out to be so,  _so_ easy. They were interested in the same things, they shared the same dreams, they lived such a similar life, and they were so much alike, despite all of the things making them different.

And Viktor fell.

Hard and deep.

It was in the middle of summer that Christophe made him aware of the choice he was about to have to make.

His soulmate didn’t seem to be interested in getting into contact with him. It hurt. Viktor always believed that despite the numbers, the undeniable statistics, he would be one of the exceptions, one of those rare cases who did find their soulmate and lived happily ever after.

But if they didn’t want him…

There was something about Yuuri that he couldn’t resist. He didn’t know if being with him would be as perfect and beautiful as he thought it would be, or if they would be able to stay in a relationship for long enough to even find out. He had no idea if he even had a chance with him, although Yuuri certainly seemed interested at the very least. What he did know was that he wanted to try. He knew that no matter who his soulmate was, he was interested in Yuuri. He was someone he  _knew_  he wanted. It was more than worth trying.

***

Whatever Yuuri wanted to tell him in the hotel lobby kept bothering him for months after.

It seemed really important, and he had the feeling that he should’ve tried harder to learn about it.

***

“That is an absolutely horrible idea, Viktor” Christophe hissed. Viktor just shook his head and glanced at Yuuri again.

“Please, just play along. I need to show him that I don’t care about my soulmate anymore, or he’ll never realize I’m available” he explained hastily, praying that Yuuri didn’t get too close while he was arguing with – or, excuse me, persuading – Chris. The plan had been ready for weeks, and he would be damned if he didn’t go through with it.

“Fine. But if it completely backfires, I’ve warned you” the Swiss skater sighed, throwing a quick glance at the approaching Yuuri.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine!” Viktor exclaimed with a happy grin, feeling completely secure in his plan. Three, two, one…

“Do you like my soulmark? Maybe you could take a closer look at it later in my room.”

After all, what could possibly go wrong?

***

_So desperate you’d have just about anyone._

_It’s true, isn’t it? You’re so scared of being alone–_

It was true. That was probably why it hurt so much.

It hurt more than the realization that his soulmate wasn’t going to be part of his life.

He would’ve willingly given up finding his soulmate to be able to change what had happened between Yuuri and him. Suddenly it seemed like he’d lost him, too, and he was left with nothing and nobody. He was willing to give up the most important thing in his life, but he messed it up.

It was his fault for not listening to Christophe. He told him that it was a bad idea. In retrospect, even he saw that it was a bad idea, making an offer like that to someone else. He should’ve just gone to Yuuri and be upfront about it. Maybe he could’ve had him. He wasn’t blind, he knew Yuuri wanted him; he also knew that there was something holding him back.

He should’ve asked. He shouldn’t have played a game, he shouldn’t have gone around it in a dramatic, twisted way.

It was too late for regret. No matter how sorry he felt about it, and how hurt he still was by what Yuuri told him, there was a grand abyss between them now, and he didn’t know how to get across it.

His only hope was that maybe time would slowly erase it for both of them.

***

He didn’t even dare tell Christophe that he would be watching Yuuri’s performances during the GPS. Chris was much, much angrier at Yuuri than he was, even though it was exactly him who  _knew_  Viktor’s plan was going to end in disaster. He’d been trying to convince Viktor to keep away from him, at least until Yuuri apologized, since he had absolutely no right to say something like what he did to Viktor.

On the one hand, he agreed.

On the other,  _Yuuri_  was about to  _skate_.

He curled up with Makkachin on his couch, staring at the screen of his laptop, one hand steadily running through Makka’s fur. He knew that whatever it would turn out to be, it would be amazing.

Watching Yuuri skate around the rink, he immediately saw that something had changed about him. Yuuri had always looked worried during warm up, to varying degrees. And not to say that he wasn’t this time around – Viktor didn’t see inside his head, although he had an inkling that their lives would be much, much easier if he did –, but he certainly seemed calmer than normally. More confident, maybe.

What might have caused the change, he didn’t know. He didn’t really want to think about it, for fear he’d come across a possible answer he wouldn’t like.

Yuuri looked very different in the colorful costume from his normal self. Most of his costumes were dark, or at least some form of blue. This one, however, was full of colors, and, just as surprisingly, Yuuri was grinning. He looked so much happier, so much more filled with energy than normally.

Then the music started, and Viktor was lost. The Yuuri out in the ice was just as brilliant as the Yuuri who won silver in his first World Championships, and the Yuuri who came so close to beating him during the last GPF. He wasn’t the same Yuuri, but he was just as amazing. The quick steps, the energetic spins, the passionate smile on his face, the jumps executed with close to perfect (well, for the most part, Yuuri somehow  _still_  had problems with the Salchows) accuracy, and the emotion, the power, the strength, the happiness in it all… it took Viktor’s breath away. He loved the program. It gave him a glimpse into the part of Yuuri carefully hidden away under thick layers of worry and nervousness, under whatever it was that was stopping him from being this Yuuri all the time.

If he wasn’t already in as deep as a person could possibly be, he would’ve been now.

He stared at Yuuri, coming out of a spin, raising one of his fists in the air as he came to a final stop. He looked like he’d won – and not the competition, but something much, much bigger. A fight Viktor didn’t know about. But Yuuri had won it.

***

His free skate outfit looked much more like Yuuri. He looked sort of… serene; calm and beautiful. Viktor’s heart gave a loud thud when the cameras focused on his face. He was almost ethereal. Viktor was already having a hard time looking away, and the Japanese didn’t even start skating yet.

He was surprised to hear Yuuri would be skating to an original composition. As far as he knew – and since he’d watched his performances a million times, he was pretty sure he knew correctly – Yuuri had never done that before. Again, it showed a new sort of strength and bravery on his end.

And then there was the routine.

Viktor was not an easy crier, never had been, probably never would be. But the program not only tugged at his heartstrings, it tore them straight out of his chest, made him gasp and stare without movement. It wasn’t perfect, it was a high difficulty program, but for one time in his life, he barely even noticed the imperfections. He didn’t notice he stopped breathing until he needed to catch his breath. That must’ve been when the tears started. He couldn’t have told.

There was so much pain in the story Yuuri was telling, so much hardship and suffering, but there was an unbreakable strength, an unstoppable fire, an undeniable power. If yesterday, after the short, Viktor had thought Yuuri had won a battle, now he knew that he had emerged victoriously from a war. And it was humbling. He still didn’t know what the fight was, or why Yuuri had to endure it, but he knew that all that suffering in the program was part of it, that Yuuri had battled all of that and came out as the winner at the end, and he admired him for it.

He never had to fight a war like that.

He didn’t know if he ever could.

***

Viktor loved his own programs. He always did; that was probably because he’d made all of them for a long time now, and they all had a special place in his heart. He choose the music, the theme, he did most of the choreography himself. They always expressed perfectly whatever it was he wanted to say with them, better than anything somebody else made ever could.

This season, he’d been torn between two main ideas – hurt and… anything else, basically. For the first time, he wasn’t sure if he could express the chosen feeling without losing any of the artistic finery that had to be part of his skating. He still remembered the year Yuuri did badly on his SP and didn’t even wait for the scores; it was completely obvious that the overflow of emotion was what ruined that performance for him. He didn’t want to fall into that trap.

After a while, he managed to admit to himself that he wasn’t exactly capable of thinking about any other theme to skate to.

He decided to stick with hurt.

His programs were… fine. He liked both of them just fine, and they were still way above almost anybody else’s capabilities, so he knew that his place on the podium of the Grand Prix Finals was secure, no matter what. Still, they were lacking, and he couldn’t find it in himself to love them like he normally loved his programs.

(Seeing Yuuri again made everything, including skating, a bit harder. Yuuri only took one glance at him before turning the other way and disappearing. He just needs more time – that was the only thought keeping Viktor from attempting to run after him.)

His short went unexpectedly well. He knew he’d do good enough to be in the lead, but he knew the second he stepped off the ice that it was by far the best performance he’d given of this routine, although far from his personal best as well. He was vaguely proud, even though the thrill of competition was getting weaker by the day.

He thought either Christophe or Yuuri would have beaten him at least once by now, and not only during the shorts, but in a whole competition. They were the best skaters – aside from him of course – in the senior division, and if they couldn’t beat him… maybe he really was at the top of the ladder, unreachable and perfect.

The thought that once filled him with pride now made him disappointed. Being at the top started becoming a burden, rather than something to be proud of.

He didn’t have to worry too long.

Yuuri beat him by three points.

***

He raised his head, smiling at the cameras, waving to the crowd. They loved it, that much was obvious. He glanced at the jury. This was a good performance, by normal standards, and Viktor wasn’t unhappy with it, per say, but he knew that if Yuuri did as well as he’d done in the qualifiers, he’d have a high chance of beating him to the gold.

He probably shouldn’t have enjoyed the thought as much as he did.

(Then again, if Yuuri was truly as angry with him as he seemed to be last year, maybe a rivalry wouldn’t exactly help them sort out their relationship.)

Yakov started the lecture before he even stepped off the ice, but he didn’t pay him too much mind. They’d talk it out later, when Viktor got some time alone to rewatch the performance and evaluate himself from a less intimate point of view. For now, he only cared about catching his breath, having some water and sitting down.

His points were good enough. Of course, good enough on the Nikiforov-scale; a lot of other competitors would’ve given anything for a score like a ‘good enough’ for him. Then again, he  _was_  Viktor Nikiforov.

***

While giving his interview, he couldn’t help but keep glancing at the screens, hoping that they’d be finished with him fast enough that he’d be able to get back and watch Yuuri.

It was no question whether he would watch him. He didn’t manage to yesterday, because they were in different groups, and Yakov ordered him to rest, but these were his favorites of all the programs Yuuri had ever skated. He wanted to see at least one of them in person, and he couldn’t wait until the Worlds.

“Thank you” he smiled politely, then, when the cameras finally turned away from him, he immediately started toward the stands.

“Viktor, where are you going?”

The accusatory voice behind him could only belong to one person. He groaned.

“Do we really need to have this argument again, Chris?” he asked, turning around, and, sure enough, Christophe was glaring him down with an expression that screamed “this is a bad idea” at him.

“Yes, we do, since you seem to be a complete masochist. Your theme? Hurt. You’re capitalizing on how much he hurt you last year, because it made such a deep impression on you, and now you want to go cheer him on?”

Viktor gave a bright, completely false grin.

“I’m just watching a fellow competitor skate. One, who, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, is very likely to be the first in years to beat me to a GPF gold medal. So…” he trailed off. Chris shook his head.

“I’ll tell you one last time: you’re being an idiot and you shouldn’t keep running after him after what he said to you. Trying to warn you is worth a try. Although… you never listen to me anyway” he shrugged. Viktor smiled again.

“Don’t worry about me, Christophe” he waved, already turning to walk away.

“I wish I could do that.”

Although he didn’t see, he was certain Chris was shaking his head behind his back.

The fake grin disappeared.

He understood Christophe, he really did. And he was probably right. (Viktor had discovered that Christophe was right a disturbing amount of times.) However, Viktor wasn’t exactly famous for listening to other people, regardless of whether or not he thought they were right.

He hurried up the stairs, hearing the scores for Cao Bin being announced.

Yuuri would be on the ice in a matter of seconds.

He tackled the last two stairs with a jump, and arrived to the railing of the stands. He gripped it to stop his momentum, just in time to catch the moment Yuuri stepped on the ice.

There was something different. For a second, he didn’t even know what it was, but by the time the crowd started noticing, he knew it was the costume, For some reason, Yuuri had his arms wrapped in transparent material, instead of the dark blue he was used to. He was too high up to really see, so he looked up at the screens, hoping whatever the reason behind this decision was would be visible upon closer inspection.

The world seemed to come to a screeching halt. All of the sudden, the crowd around him and the noise filling the arena disappeared, leaving only him, his pounding heart and the huge screens he was staring at.

There, in front of him, lay the Mark he recognized.

Viktor forgot about anything and everything else. His mind short-circuited, and for almost a minute, he just stood, gripping the railing and staring ahead, his mind completely empty.

Then someone pressed play, and all of the emotions came crushing down on him.

If he thought he had learned everything there was to know about hurt in the moment Yuuri softly told him how pathetic he thought Viktor was, he was horribly wrong. Because the man skating freely on the ice in front of him, lost in some happy, hopeful dream was his soulmate; his soulmate, who had known they were soulmates for two years.

He had never told him. Yuuri had known, for years, through everything, and never once had he mentioned, never once had he even talked about soulmates anywhere near Viktor.

And it was impossible for Yuuri not to know. He was right there, right behind Viktor at the Worlds two years ago, his mark was most definitely in front of his face. No matter how hard Viktor tried, he found no way to even be able to assume that Yuuri didn’t notice. He knew.

Viktor had been trying so hard. He’d done everything to show that he wanted his soulmate, that he’d do anything for them, that it was the dream of his life to find them and be with them.

Even worse, he’d been trying so hard to have Yuuri. He had no idea who they were to each other, and he still wanted Yuuri, with every fiber of his heart, he would’ve given up meeting his soulmate, all for him. Anything for him.

And Yuuri was just standing there, unreachable, laughing at his desperate attempts to get to him. Viktor gave everything, and Yuuri had nothing to give back to him.

Viktor loved him more than anything in the world.

Yuuri laughed and turned his back on him without a second thought.

It felt like his heart was being ripped into shreds, like the sky had fallen on him, it hurt like nothing, nothing on this earth could. He wanted to stop watching Yuuri gliding across the ice, dancing about a war he’d won, while Viktor stood up there, suddenly being the one defeated, the one left behind in shattered pieces. He couldn’t move. He thought that if he did move, he would never, ever be able to come back here again. He thought that if he turned away from Yuuri now, he’d never be able to turn back his way again.

He would’ve given him anything. Yuuri didn’t want it.

Suddenly, he noticed that he was shaking.

He needed to get out. Now.

***

By the time the medal ceremony had rolled around, Viktor felt like he could safely put on a façade for the cameras. He didn’t cry – the pain he felt was far beyond tears –, but he had something he could only really describe as a panic attack, based on what he knew about panic attacks.

He didn’t look at Yuuri. He didn’t know and didn’t particularly care about how people would explain his sudden coldness toward his fellow skater, but he didn’t care. He knew that if he looked at him just once, he wouldn’t be able to keep his mask on. He figured that they’d initially think he was a sore loser – Yuuri did end up beating his total score –, until someone pointed out the fact that their marks looked like they fit together. After that, the speculations would be endless.

Not that he read the speculations about his personal life often, but he was certain that  _now_ he’d avoid all of them like the plague. It was more than enough to know the truth. He didn’t want to read about a hundred other ways that would result in this moment.

Standing on the podium next to him, all he wanted was to forget about Yuuri’s existence for the rest of his life.

***

The next months were torture. Whatever he did, wherever he was, whatever amount of vodka he drank, whoever he pulled into his bed, all he could think of was Yuuri.

Brown, innocent eyes, wide behind blue glasses, absolutely incompatible with the cold cruelty of the way he treated Viktor. Of course, he didn’t know him that well, and maybe all of that was just an act, but the Yuuri he knew was one of the sweetest, kindest people on the planet. How he could be so heartless toward Viktor was a mystery.

He didn’t know how to solve it.

He didn’t particularly care.

***

“And what exactly am I supposed to tell your sponsors?! That you don’t feel like skating this year?!”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. Deal with them however you want.”

“Nikiforov, I swear to god–“

***

“You look horrible.”

“Thank you, Christophe” Viktor grimaced, sipping his coffee. It usually helped him fight hangovers.

“Aside from the fact that you look like you drank way too much again last night, you look horrible in general, Viktor” Chris continued like he didn’t even hear the Russian. “I’m worried about you. Are you sure you don’t want me to fly out?”

Viktor rolled his eyes.

“I’ve told you before, stop worrying. Besides, you have to prepare for the Euros.”

“And I’ve told you that I can’t really do that, since I’m your best friend, or something like that. Anyway… Speaking of the Euros; are you seriously not skating for the rest of the season?”

Viktor kept quiet for a few seconds, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. It wasn’t like it was a legitimate question, Chris already knew it from the news, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings, especially because Christophe already knew about those too.

Not that he had ever even said anything about Yuuri.

Not that he had as much as uttered his name since the Finals.

Not that he needed to.

“No” he answered finally. Chris frowned at him. Viktor turned away from the screen to stare into his coffee.

“Viktor…” He stopped for a second and sighed. “Viktor, you didn’t tell me anything, but I put two and two together, so I know what’s going on. I know you’re making a habit of not listening to me, but… you deserve so much better than him. If he could do this to you–“

“Makkachin has to go out. Talk to you later, Christophe” Viktor said, harsh and cold, ending the call before Chris had time to blink.

***

It was easy to find a picture of Yuuri’s mark, and he could draw his own with his eyes closed.

They fit perfectly together.

After a second of staring at the drawing, he tore the paper into tiny pieces and grabbed a bottle of vodka from the fridge.

***

“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. I would’ve done a-anything for, him, and I made it so clear... I’ve even told him, eye to eye, I w-want to find my soulmate! And he was like, copet-cem-coletel-completely closed off the s-second I said ma-soulmate. He knew! The bastard, he was stit-sitten-sitting there being all I don’t core-care, and he didn’t!”

Viktor took a long gulp from the bottle again, free hand desperately clutching the fur of a very sympathetic and patient Makkachin.

“He most-must never even think me, think of me, and here I am, o-on my floor, drunkin-dirnkin-drinking this stupid thing “He waved the bottle around.” alone in the middle of t-the night like an idot-idiot.”

Makkachin licked his face.

“At least you love me, r-right, Makka?”

***

It was rough and fast, just like every one of these one night stands had been since November.

He gripped the guy’s (he didn’t even know his name) hips harder.

He’d never do this out of true love anyway. He couldn’t imagine making love to anyone other than Yuuri anymore.

He bit into the guy’s shoulder, hard, unforgiving.

Forget about him!

***

The snow was breathtakingly beautiful. Viktor couldn’t help it; he got dressed in a haste, grabbed his keys, Makkachin’s leash and then he was out the door.

Walking down the street in the fresh snow in the middle of the night with Makka by his side, he finally felt an old sense of calm return to him.

***

“Yes, I watched. You were really good. Congratulations” Viktor said, smiling. It was a rare occasion these days, but his smile was honest.

“Thank you. It wasn’t the same without you though” Christophe sighed. Viktor rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not retired just yet. I just…” he hesitated.

“Yeah, I get it” Chris nodded, offering a comforting smile. Viktor accepted it with one of his own.

“But that means you are coming back next season, right?” Christophe asked, a slight whining tone to his voice. “I have no motivation without you!” Viktor nodded, grinning, snuggling deeper into the blankets around him, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Of course I am. It’s a miracle Yakov didn’t murder me right after telling him out of nowhere that I’m taking the rest of the season off, I don’t want to ruin his nerves any further than I already have” he laughed. Christophe joined in. After some silence later, he smiled gently again.

“You look better, Viktor.”

***

Viktor walked down the aisle, already turning to take the left turn on reflex, but he stopped himself, staring down the row of shelves filled with alcohol.

The experiences of the past two months have taught him that vodka was not exactly a solution to the problem he was facing.

He continued walking down the aisle.

***

“Christophe… do you think you could fly out? Maybe after the Worlds? I… There are a few things I need to talk about, and this” he said, gesturing at the camera “is not exactly how I want to do it.”

The relief rolling off of Chris was apparent even through the distance separating them.

***

“I’d offer you something to drink, but I’m trying not to keep anything at home these days” Viktor said after offering Christophe a seat. “But I have juice or coffee or maybe even some tea or hot chocolate if you’d like.”

“I’ll take the coffee” Chris grinned, extending his legs in front of him. “Also that’s a good decision, considering how many times on camera you looked like you got completely smashed the previous night” he added. Viktor shrugged, walking over to the kitchen to grab some coffee and cookies for the two of them.

After he got back and took a seat, it instantly became obvious that Christophe doesn’t want to talk circles around the elephant in the room.

“So. I know you’d probably prefer to get away with chickening out of this conversation, but I’m not going to let you. You said there were things you needed to talk about?”

Viktor glared at him for a second for accusing him of wanting to “chicken out” – although if he was being completely honest with himself, he had to admit he was somewhat right –, then took a sip of his coffee and sighed.

“Well... I guess I don’t have to explain why I was the way I was in the past few months. You’ve pretty much told me that you know, so I don’t want to go into it.” Chris nodded, his attention focused on Viktor. “I… I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it, and… Chris, I  _know_  him. Not in the way you know someone you talk to every day, or the way I know you, or the way I know a lot of other people. I didn’t spend enough time with him for that. But I know him, and what I know about him is absolutely incompatible with such… cruelty.” Christophe looked like he wanted to interrupt, so Viktor quickly put his hand up. “Please let me finish. I’m not saying that there was a misunderstanding, or that it was an accident, and I’m not deluding myself, I know he knew about my mark. I’m saying that maybe… maybe there was a reason behind this. He doesn’t… he isn’t a cruel person, Chris, even I cannot be that bad at reading people. So there had to have been a reason. And I want to know what it was.”

Christophe contemplated what he said for a few seconds, then slowly nodded.

“Maybe there is something in what you’re saying. Then again… what about last year? How do you explain that? There’s not much excuse for that.”

Viktor nodded.

“I’ve thought about that. Do you remember the line I used? Maybe you’d like to take a closer look at my–“

“–soulmark” Christophe said slowly, realization flashing through his expression. “They do say that extreme jealousy happens with soulmates.”

“Maybe it wasn’t even that extreme. You were… well, you were right. I’ve picked a really bad moment in his life to say something like that. After the way he lost the competition, he must have been really down, and then I went ahead and said something like that… I guess I get why he would’ve lost it” Viktor shrugged, looking down into his coffee, hair falling into his eyes.

“Okay, but even if there was a reason he said it, it doesn’t make it any less–“

“Yes, I know” Viktor interrupted, looking back up. Christophe shook his head.

“I’m not just talking about last year. I’m talking about all of it. Having a reason isn’t a free out of jail card. You can’t let him not take responsibility for the way he hurt you.”

Viktor nodded slowly, turning away to look at Makka on the other side of the room, chewing on the new toy Chris brought for him. He was right, of course, and it was good that he told him so. This time, Viktor was determined to listen to him. He knew that although he didn’t think it was right, he’d probably forgive Yuuri everything if he gave him just one good reason. Christophe telling him not to do that, to make him take responsibility was good. He needed to remember this conversation when he would eventually have to face Yuuri.

“I would eventually have to face him” he muttered, his thoughts forming into words involuntarily.

“Eventually” Chris nodded, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “But not yet. You have time to figure out how you want to have this conversation.”

After a minute of silence, Viktor decided to lighten the mood and grinned.

“Hate sex isn’t really the right way to handle this, right?”

Christophe started laughing, immediately registering the joking tone in Viktor’s voice.

“Not really, no. But if you really long to let off some steam, I’m always here for you, darling” he winked. Viktor laughed happily.

“How about that boyfriend of yours, wouldn’t he mind?”

“Hm, let me think.” Chris pretended to mull over the question for a second. “I guess he would let it slide if we let him slide in between us” he grinned, making Viktor chuckle again.

“That could be arranged” he winked, prompting both of them to laugh again.

It was really good to have Christophe with him.

***

Getting back into practice wasn’t easy, and getting back on Yakov’s good side was even harder.

Viktor only found one thing more difficult.

Coming up with an idea of what to skate about.

Or to.

Or just… anything about new programs.

He kind of wanted to work with his experiences in the previous year, but he didn’t really know how to work them into anything cohesive. And there were other things too, like giving himself a new direction, or the snowfall in a Saint Petersburg night. He didn’t know what to pick, and he had no musical choices.

Luckily, the only thing he still had was a lot of time.

***

After hearing the music for the first time, he was immediately drawn to it; he felt like it would express a lot of things he wanted to. The lyrics had the potential to make or break the choice, but after reading the English translation of the song, Viktor finally knew for certain.

It was a plea. Not for his heart, his life, his devotion. It was a plea for a chance, a plea for just another glance, just an explanation. And of course, the wish for more, for everything, for eternity together was there, but that had always been there. If it wasn’t part of the music, it wouldn’t have been true, it wouldn’t have been what Viktor felt.

Viktor knew without a doubt that there were a lot of things he did wrong, and a lot of wrongs that had been done to him. But he also thought that a lot of them were because there weren’t enough words and there weren’t enough explanations. And although he couldn’t work up the courage and the strength needed to stand in front of Yuuri, there were other ways he could reach out.

Stammi Vicino, the plea for a chance, was the perfect message to Yuuri, and skating was the perfect way to get it across.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I've thought a lot about how to do this chapter, but since this is so much about Viktor and his feelings (this whole thing in Yuuri’s pov would've been what, two thousand words?) I couldn't resist switching to his pov. I like to think that I've paced this pretty much like the series did, with one episode from Viktor’s perspective as we are nearing the end.
> 
> However, there is still a lot of excitement to go before this is over, so no worries! ;) I'm still uncertain if this will end up being 11 or 12 chapters (the last one being an epilogue, so technically 10+epi or 11+epi) long, so we'll find that out together! :D
> 
> One last thing. There is a piece of music that is pretty much the “theme song" of this fic; listening to it gave me some of the core ideas for it. Like... most of the main conflict. It was so important in the development of this that at one point, I've considered making its title into the title of the fic - before I've realized how horrible a marketing decision naming something Irrelevant was.  
> [Lauren Aquilina: Irrelevant](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Lk_SeKgl-0)  
> At first,I've thought “oh this is soooo how Yuuri feels" - and then suddenly, thinking about this chapter and what Viktor feels here, I’ve realized that the true tragedy in all of this is that there is a period when they both feel exactly like this song, they both think that no matter what they do, they won't be good enough for the other, that they are irrelevant and unimportant, while in actuality, they both just really, really want to be happy together.
> 
> My poor babies.
> 
> And that concludes this chapter! I'll see you all next Saturday! Like, actually, really on the actual day of Saturday.
> 
> P.S.: You can also find me on [my YoI blog on Tumblr](https://yoitookovermylife.tumblr.com/)!


	9. Watch Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's reality, the one that had been altered bit by bit, until it became something completely malformed, finally meets Viktor's reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, incredibly late chapter! I am soooo sorry :'D If any of you follow me on tumblr, you know this already, but basically this is what happened:
> 
> Last weekend, I thought that I would finally have time to write, and I was really happy that I could promise you that this chapter would be on time on Saturday. And time I had; except my body decided that I've been pushing myself too much lately, and promptly started producing fever. Since I have fevers like once every three years, it wore me down, and I couldn't write. I could only start the chapter on Saturday, but then there were family issues that needed my attention, and I was moving back to the city where I study at, so my weekend wasn't exactly ideal for writing either.  
> But it's here now!
> 
> Thank you again, to everyone who comments, subscribes, kudos or bookmarks this fic, your support means an awful lot to me <3
> 
> Onward to the chapter!
> 
> Enjoy~

Yuuri was in a state of complete confusion. The scores on the screen didn’t make sense.

There was no way he actually beat Viktor.

Celestino was patting his back and showering him in praises; the audience was going wild; his face was all over the screens in the stadium. He felt detached from it. Until this moment, he didn’t even think about the competition part of this particular day; he was too focused on this being “The Day Viktor Sees My Mark”. To think that maybe this would also be “The Day I Win The GPF” seemed much too overconfident. Then again, never before had he come here with such great odds.

He stammered his way through the interview, trying to comprehend what was happening, getting caught up in the whirlwind of congratulations.

What his performance was really for didn’t come back to him until the moment he saw Viktor walking toward him.

His heart was beating rapidly, his breath caught in his throat; for a second, it felt like the world was hanging on the peak of a curve, waiting, before the decisive moment would come.

Viktor walked by him without a second glance.

The world restarted, Yuuri gasped for breath, the stillness was replaced by the lively roar of the stadium. The decisive moment had come and gone, and Viktor made his opinion clear. Yuuri had been right all of these years; he was not enough for him, he would never be. He bit his lip and shook his head slightly, ignoring Christophe, who was watching him and Viktor with a contemplating look on his face. It didn’t matter anymore. He had been prepared for this, he had gone through the feeling of rejection that was greeting him as an old friend by now.

He accepted his gold medal, he smiled, he waved, and he ignored the painful pang in his heart upon discovering that Viktor apparently decided to act as if he didn’t exist.

***

Viktor kept ignoring Yuuri for the rest of the events of the GPF. It hurt; it hurt more every time Viktor turned away, every time he walked by him without a greeting. He was trying his best to pretend not to notice any of it, trying to act as if Viktor’s explicit-as-it-gets rejection didn’t hurt him as much as it did.

Yuuri genuinely thought he was beyond being hurt by the real rejection that would follow the years of knowing it would come. He honestly believed that he was ready to face it now. Yet, as he bumped into signs of it again and again, the pain kept biting into him. He wished there was some way to mend their relationship, to save at least the little that they had before.

He was starting to regret his decision about uncovering his soulmark. Maybe this was all completely pointless. Maybe they could’ve been friends if Yuuri himself didn’t put this thing between them. Maybe…

Yuuri sighed and turned on the TV. There wasn’t much point in thinking about what ifs anymore.

“And what do you think of Yuuri Katsuki’s performance?”

Viktor was being interviewed. Yuuri’s heart picked up speed.

“Katsuki must have worked hard for this victory. I’m sure he’s very pleased with himself” Viktor answered, coldness and venom in his words. He was angry at Yuuri.

Again.

Yuuri groaned and turned the machine back off. Whatever. Viktor had been angry at him since last year, and, just like then, he wasn’t really the one who had any right to be angry.

Calm down, Yuuri. Nobody is at fault here, not you, not him, it’s just the universe.

He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. This was going to be another long night.

***

“So… it’s Nikiforov then.”

It was late at night, and both of them were acting as though they were sleeping. Yuuri sighed quietly.

“Yes” he admitted. Not that he didn’t expect this conversation, but that didn’t mean he wanted to have it.

The silence was starting to last long enough that Yuuri was starting to wonder if maybe that was all Phichit wanted to say.

“Well, Mister I’m Better Than Anyone can go to hell” his friend said in a tone that signaled the end of the discussion. Yuuri sighed and looked over at the dark form on the other bed. He then sighed again and turned to face the wall.

Phichit wasn’t being fair to Viktor, he knew it, but… the story was too long and complicated and painful to explain. It could wait for another day, when they were both less exhausted.

Phichit could live with not knowing the full story.

***

“Yuuri, Yuuri, did you hear the news?”

Yuuri had heard no news. He was trying to get some sleep now that he finally had a day off.

“Yuuuuuri!”

He groaned.

“No.”

Maybe if he answered, Phichit would go away and let him sleep a few more hours.

“Yuuri, come on, pay attention, this is important! It’s about Nikiforov, I’m sure you wanna hear it!”

Yuuri hated how well Phichit knew him; just the mention of Viktor’s name got him to perk up. He lifted his head and blinked at his friend.

“Finally. So I just read this article, it says his coach had announced yesterday that he – Nikiforov, I mean, not his coach – is not skating for the rest of the season!”

Yuuri sat up immediately, now completely awake.

“What?!” he asked, slightly panicked. “Did something happen? Is he injured? Is he sick? He’s not retiring yet, he can’t be, can he?”

Phichit gave him an unfazed look.

“He’s fine, at least it seems like it. His coach didn’t mention any injuries or medical problems. No talk about retiring either, unless you delve into the comments section. Basically, his coach said that Nikiforov wants to get some rest to be able to prepare for the next season better, although that hardly makes any sense” Phichit explained. Yuuri frowned at him.

“That… doesn’t sound like him. He wouldn’t just… miss a season without any reason” he mumbled. Phichit huffed and sat down on Yuuri’s bed.

“You know him better than I do. Yeah, okay, he wouldn’t miss a season voluntarily, but he did, so… what do you think, why?” he asked. Yuuri shook his head.

“I don’t know him that well, Phichit. Maybe Christophe could tell, but…” He trailed off, thinking. “Personal reasons, maybe? I mean he told me that he never had a close relationship with his family, but if something happened to one of them, I feel like he’d still be pretty upset… Although maybe not enough to give up the chance to get back at me for beating him at the GPF. He loves his dog a lot, maybe if something happened to him…” Yuuri sighed. “I don’t know. There could be a million reasons, but I can’t think of any that would be strong enough to keep him away from skating.”

They fell into contemplative silence for a few minutes. Viktor taking a break like this seemed to come out of nowhere, and it was something Yuuri never could’ve foreseen. It was strange. He had already prepared to deal with the cold treatment during the next competitions, he was coming up with reassuring things to say to himself for when he’d see him again in a few months, but now…

Why would Viktor just not continue a season he’d already begun?

“I don’t get that guy” Phichit finally said, standing up. “But since you’re already up… I saw a charming little shop two blocks down that has just opened last week , and I’ve been  _dying_  to check it out” he grinned. Yuuri groaned again and fell back onto his pillows.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Chulanont.”

“Don’t I know it, Katsuki!”

***

After the shock of learning that Viktor wouldn’t be competing in the rest of the events, Yuuri found that he had a lot of strength he could now repurpose. He’d been preparing to deal with a lot more emotional obstacles, but with Viktor out of the picture, not only was there one living legend less in the circuit, there was no cold neglect distracting him.

Needless to say, Yuuri – with Phichit’s words – completely slayed all of the competitions he still had to face. The love he felt for his new programs, the music and the theme he picked filled with meaning, the determination to prove himself, the will to finally become the one on top of the podium in multiple consecutive events during a season ended up being enough to help him reach his goals.

In April, when he was packing all of his medals to send them home, he was beaming with pride to be able to count six gold ones.

This had been, without question, the most successful season during his entire career.

***

_Katsuki and Nikiforov – Tragic Love Story Behind The Screens?_

Yuuri stared at the title for almost a minute, then glanced at the door. He did promise not to read about himself on the internet, and he  _knew_  there was no point in reading this clearly speculative article about the nonexistent romance between himself and Viktor, but...

Well, Phichit wasn’t due home for another couple of hours.

Two hours and a million articles and fantheories later he was sorely regretting going down this lane. Just like he thought when he started reading the very first one, they were all just speculations and guesses, and none had any input from Viktor, himself, or any of their friends.

Of course, if the actual story was out there, he would’ve known about it by now.

Some people did actually get pretty close. A lot of them had the common sense to put their marks next to each other, so the fact that they were soulmates was pretty far from a secret by now. Half the world knew – the only reason the other one didn’t was that they didn’t care.

(Yuuri was still feeling guilty for avoiding Yuuko’s phone calls. He had a feeling that would bite him in the ass with vengeance at some point.)

And of course, some of them figured out that Yuuri revealing his mark might have been when Viktor himself learned about the whole thing, and then this idea spread to others, creating shockingly serious debates.

From there, there was a wide array of stories created around them: about them having been secret lovers who fought over something and broke up, about Yuuri dramatically revealing his soulmark this way instead privately because he couldn’t deal with Viktor’s reaction – kind of true, except in that particular story, they had been lovers before it, and Yuuri had always refused to sleep with Viktor (which, well, who in their right minds would do that). In a different one, they knew, but Viktor wanted to keep it a secret, so when Yuuri couldn’t deal with secrecy anymore, he showed it to the world without Viktor’s permission, and that’s why they were at odds at the moment. There was also a pretty hot story that Yuuri honestly, really, why are you looking like that, only wanted to take a glance into, which featured them, the medal ceremony and a lot of heated, angry sex.

Yes, Yuuri concluded, he sank low enough that he was reading erotic fanfiction about himself and his soulmate. Who, by the way, he hadn’t seen ever since he’d learned about them being soulmates.

“What is my life?” he muttered, exiting the browser and putting his laptop aside in favor of being able to lie flat on the floor and stare at the ceiling.

His soulmate basically disappeared off the face of the earth, people who should’ve been interested in him only to the extent of “how well can you skate” were writing fanfiction and passionate debates about his love life and he was about to have cereal and instant noodles for dinner.

Surprisingly, he felt like he’d been worse.

***

“That’s a hoax, Phichit. There is no way they’d let anyone rent this place for this amount of money” Yuuri stated, turning away from the screen.

“At least give it a chance! Come on, let’s read through it!” Phichit insisted, eyes flying across the screen. Yuuri shook his head in an exasperated gesture.

“Phichit, I talk to people, however surprising that might be, and I know some who live around there,  _that_  is not the prize range for this neighborhood.”

Phichit didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to him as he kept reading the ad.

“Well it seems pretty legit” he said after a few more seconds. “Two bedrooms and a living room-“

“A living room too?!” Yuuri whipped his head back toward the screen. “No way! There has to be some sort of, I don’t know, bonus request or extra payment, or… something. L-like that thing I told you about last week, where someone offered luxury apartments for basically free, but there’d be cameras all over the flat and broadcast what they do and stuff.”

“Yes way! I mean I don’t get it either, but it seems okay. There is no reasoning for the price here…” Phichit bit his lip and glanced up at Yuuri. “It would be worth a glance? If there  _is_  something, and we can’t agree to it, we just wasted a couple of hours of our life, no big deal. And if it  _is_  legit, if this place is really what it seems like, then we just hit the jackpot!”

Yuuri shook his head slowly, contemplating. Technically, Phichit was right. They didn’t have that much to lose, and, while it wasn’t that horrible living in the dorms –he kind of got used to it by now –, he would definitely trade it for that flat. He sighed and looked at his friend.

“You’re going to talk me into this no matter what, right?” he asked, resigned. Phichit grinned.

“Yep. But I like that you put up a fight!” Yuuri laughed, and leaned over to take a closer look at the screen.

“How far is this? Twenty minutes?”

“Ten via bus. I’ll call the owner; see if we can take a look at it today. Oh, when is your next day off?”

“Uh… Friday.”

“Cool, I’m free in the afternoon” Phichit nodded, then whipped his phone out and dialed the number on the screen.

***

“Phichit, Phichit! Do not lift that thing alone!” Yuuri called, alarmed, upon seeing that Phichit was about to try to move one of the – surprisingly heavy – armchairs. “I’ll help you in a minute, okay?”

The Thai boy nodded, giving him an innocent grin. Yuuri shook his head. As far as common sense went, he was obviously given much more than his best friend. Not that Phichit wouldn’t have learned a valuable lesson by pulling his back trying to lift the armchair without help, but Yuuri didn’t want his friend to get injured, since he knew that for an athlete, even an injury like this could eventually mean, if not instant retirement, years taken away from their short-as-it-is competitive career.

They were really moving in together. It was different than the dorms; this was a conscious decision they’d made together, knowing each other. They would be freer here, with all the good and bad things being free yielded. Yuuri couldn’t wait to put the kitchen to good use – he hated cooking in the dorms –, and couldn’t wait having his own room after such a long time of having to share. Not that he didn’t love Phichit; he just needed some time alone every now and then.

“Yuuri, did you see my brown medium suitcase?”

“No. Are you sure you put in on the moving van?”

“I… no?”

“Oh, Phichit…”

***

As summer rolled about, Yuuri realized that he had to start thinking about new programs. The only problem was that he felt like he was completely out of ideas. Honestly, his routines and his results in the previous season seemed to him like the highest peak of his abilities. He’d proved himself and right now he didn’t really know what to do. He wondered if there was anything to do; if maybe, just maybe, the previous season should’ve been his last.

He didn’t know if he could live up to the image of himself that he created last year. It wasn’t an unknown feeling, this doubt: he remembered it very well from his first season with Ciao Ciao. Back then, he had so much to prove, he raised the bar too high for himself by doing so well during his first Worlds. This year was, in some ways, different. Yes, once more he found himself unsure if he could do as well as last year, but this time, he didn’t feel like he had to prove that he was still the same skater. His audience had seen him do breathtakingly well and absolutely horrible. They knew he was a bit inconsistent, so if his programs this year weren’t  _as_  good, nobody would really go around saying that last year was just a hoax.

He was a good skater, who sometimes performed lackluster programs.

That was an image he could live with.

Still, while he wasn’t as anxious about it as he would’ve been a couple of years ago, the routines wouldn’t create themselves. He didn’t want to completely rely on Celestino, but he saw reason pretty fast: there was a reason he was a well-known coach, he’d be able to help him out.

What they really needed was a theme. Yuuri had been racking his mind, trying to come up with something he could skate with feeling, but it wasn’t until Ciao Ciao recommended defiance that he found it. It wasn’t as strong an emotion as the things he skated about last year, but it was good enough, and it was new to his image.

He knew that these programs might not be enough for him to keep his titles, but he was damn sure he was going to try to make them perfect.

***

“Listen, I’ve been thinking” Phichit said one night, not even looking at Yuuri, smashing his controller.

“Yeah?” Yuuri asked half-mindedly, trying to knock Phichit’s character off his feet.

“Yeah. So… it might be a completely crazy theory, so stick with me for a bit. Is it… so, is it possible that Nikiforov… you know, that he didn’t actually  _know_  before you skated Yuuri on Ice at the GPF?” he asked. Yuuri pressed his lips together and kept focusing on the game. He was not having this discussion. Apparently, Phichit couldn’t not look at Yuuri, because his character stopped moving, giving Yuuri an easy win.

“You still didn’t keep your promise to mop the floor with me” Yuuri fake-grinned. Phichit sighed.

“Come on, Yuuri, just for argument’s sake-“

“No” Yuuri interrupted, turning to Phichit abruptly. “There is no argument here, nothing to analyze or talk about. Viktor and I are not a thing, weren’t a thing and won’t be a thing. Now, you have been gloating about how good you are at this game, and I’ve yet to see that, so can we please drop the topic of my disastrous love life and get back to playing? Please?”

Phichit eyed him quietly for a minute before he sighed and turned back to the screen.

“Okay, Yuuri. I just… I’m trying to help, you know” he said quietly. Yuuri bumped their shoulders together.

“I know, Phichit. And I am grateful, even if it doesn’t seem like it. There is just… not much to do about this anymore, so it doesn’t really make a difference. I’d rather just not think about the whole thing” he explained.

“Okay, okay. If you’re sure” Phichit nodded, then pressed start.

Thankfully, he didn’t bring the topic up again.

***

“Are you going to participate in this season?”

“Yes, definitely.” Yuuri’s head shot up when he heard the familiar voice. And sure, there he was: Viktor on screen, talking to an interviewer.

“This was never a permanent arrangement. I simply had some personal issues that needed my attention. Luckily, they are dealt with, so I can dedicate my time to skating once more” he explained. Yuuri turned the stove off and leaned on the kitchen counter, staring over at the TV in the living room.

“Does this have anything to do with Yuuri Katsuki? Many people have theorized-“

“The things between Yuuri and me are our concern and our concern only. So are the rest of our personal lives” Viktor stated, voice strict and cold. Still, there was something different about the way he said Yuuri’s name.

Yuuri waved his hopes away. He’d learned how pointless they were a long time ago.

“As I said, I had multiple private issues, none of which I want to talk about in length, that have kept me from skating. However, they are now in the past.” The interviewer nodded fervently, apparently trying not to anger Viktor any further.

“How about your qualifications? Since you’ve only participated in the Grand Prix series last time, you’d have to go through certain qualifiers to skate in it again this year. Or do you plan your return for the Russian Nationals?”

“No, no, I’m skating in qualifiers before the GPS. I want to make my return to the series, and I’m confident I’ll easily make it through the local qualifiers.”

“Do you already have programs in mind?” Yuuri perked up, excitedly awaiting the answer. Maybe Viktor was still in the process of coming up with something new, maybe he already knew what he was going to skate to. In either case, he couldn’t help the giddiness he felt about hearing him talk about his routines.

“Well, I’m still working on my short program, I couldn’t find the perfect music for it yet. My free skate, however, is mostly done. I’m still fixing some of the choreography, but the aria I found was very inspiring” Viktor answered, a smile appearing on his face.

“And which aria is that?” the woman asked with a grin.

“Let’s leave some surprises for my fans, would you?” Viktor laughed. “You’ll all find out in time” he winked. Yuuri found himself smiling slightly. Not that he’d ever admit, but he was worried about Viktor. The way he disappeared, not only from the public eye but all of his social media as well was concerning. He was happy to see that Viktor was still his old self; even if that didn’t actually mean anything for their relationship.

Their relationship.

What the hell was Yuuri going to do if he sees Viktor again at the GPF?!

The question he asked himself a million times after last year’s finals came back with full force. Since Viktor took a break last year, they didn’t have to meet at all, and Yuuri got away without having to face him, but they would inevitably meet again this year. He can’t act like nothing happened, but he can’t address the tension either.

If there would be tension. After all, who knows what Viktor was going to do? Maybe he would pretend last year didn’t happen, and they’d be back to the casual friendliness from before. Or maybe he’d act the same way he did last year, completely ignoring Yuuri’s existence unless he was forced to acknowledge it.

How Yuuri would and could behave would completely be determined by Viktor. Not much had changed for him; he’d known for years, the fact that Viktor knew now only made things different for Viktor, not Yuuri. All these years, it had been him who had established the way their interactions would go, in the sense that he was the one who had decided that despite them being soulmates who won’t actually be together, they should still be friendly with each other. It was now Viktor’s turn to make that decision, and Yuuri was pretty sure he knew that himself.

While all of this was perfectly logical and simple, Yuuri couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach when he thought about meeting Viktor again.

***

Okay, Yuuri, you’re okay, it’s all going to be fine.

The mantra had been going on in his head for the past three hours since he’d gotten to his hotel room. Viktor was definitely somewhere in the same hotel, they could run into each other while getting lunch, or while going to the rink to practice, and then there was practice, which he couldn’t, and Viktor wouldn’t skip. There was absolutely no way he would be able to avoid him during the whole event – and besides, he’d already decided not to run away from him if he saw-

Wait, was that him? That guy with the light hair, oh, no, he’s just really pale blond.

Yuuri was a wreck and he knew it.

“Yuuri, you’re being jumpy. Are you sure you’re okay? If you need some rest, you can go and have a nap” Celestino said. Yuuri shook his head.

“I’m fine, coach, I’m just a bit… nervous. I’ll be fine” he smiled, trying to be reassuring. Ciao Ciao didn’t look particularly convinced, but let the issue go. He more or less trusted Yuuri to tell him when he needed some privacy, however horrible a decision that was.

Yuuri exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself, and then looked up.

Yes, the man staring him in the eye was most definitely Viktor.

He gulped and turned his gaze away.

“Yuuri?” he heard Celestino calling.

“I’ll b-be right t-there, coach” he stuttered, waving at him to get going.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if there was anything to say at all, if maybe he should just keep walking – Viktor coldly ignoring him still being a painfully fresh memory.

“Hello” Viktor said, quietly, hesitantly.

“Hello” Yuuri nodded, still not looking at the other man.

Another bout of silence fell upon them. There was a tense energy in the air between them as they stood by the wall of the otherwise quite busy hotel lobby. Yuuri suddenly wanted to say a lot of things, or at the very least drag Viktor away to somewhere they could talk; the sudden longing to reach out to Viktor with words, to tell him everything he’d been bottling up for all of these years surprised him. Never once did he feel like he wanted to talk to Viktor about this, not until this moment. It wasn’t that he had any hopes he didn’t silence yet, and it wasn’t like he thought there would be some sort of a solution to this whole situation if they talked. He just… wanted Viktor to know everything. And maybe, just maybe skating wasn’t enough to really explain it all.

“Good luck for the competition” Viktor offered after a few minutes. Yuuri nodded again.

“You too.” He wished he could say more, he wished he could figure out a way to initiate the real conversation they should be having. He was sure Viktor could feel it in the air too.

“I… I have to go now. Yakov is waiting for me” Viktor mumbled, glancing over his shoulder. In the lack of anything else to do, Yuuri nodded once more, taking a step in Celestino’s direction, who was standing a few feet away from them, obviously waiting for Yuuri.

“Wait, Yuuri!” Viktor said suddenly, hand reaching out toward the Japanese, a new urgency in his voice. Yuuri turned back to look at him, Viktor’s hand hovering in the space between the two of them, just a hair’s length from crossing the distance.

“I… I wanted to…” Viktor stopped and took a deep breath, steeling himself. His hand fell. “Watch me when I perform my free skate, please” he said finally, then turned away and left to find his coach.

Yuuri was standing, dumbfounded. He had been expecting a lot of things, but not a request like this. Viktor didn’t seem angry at him at all. He was actually sort of acting like he expected Yuuri to be angry, which made absolutely no sense. Yuuri had no reason to be angry, if not at the universe for messing with his life on a daily basis. Why Viktor acted like he was expecting Yuuri to blow up on him was a complete mystery.

After another few seconds dedicated to…  _whatever the hell just happened_ , Yuuri finally turned to catch up with Celestino.

***

Yuuri sat down on a bench, exhaling slowly. He’d just finished his interview, and he was really happy he could finally get rid of his skates. There were three more people after him, but he didn’t care much; he was just happy he was finished.

“Yuuri.”

The voice belonged to Christophe. Yuuri’s stomach jumped into a knot. While they had been on friendly terms with Chris until two years ago, after the banquet incident, they had barely talked. He knew Viktor and Christophe were best friends, so he wasn’t extremely surprised. Phichit wouldn’t even say hello to Viktor if he ever met him, because he was still furious about the whole soulmate situation.

“Hello, Christophe” Yuuri replied, looking up and risking a smile. Chris wasn’t exactly smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either, so he categorized it as a win.

He bended down to unlace his skates.

“You know, for the most part of last year, I wanted to strangle you” Chris said. Yuuri’s head shot up, his eyes wide. Last year? Chris had no reason to be angry at him for last year, even if he did figure out the soulmate thing. Viktor didn’t care, did he? Maybe he was angry that Yuuri let him keep searching while he knew it was pointless, but that didn’t validate such strong emotion from Christophe.

“I-I’m sorry?” he tried, having absolutely no idea what the answer was supposed to be to something like that.

Great, Christophe was definitely frowning now.

“You don’t sound like you have any idea what you’re apologizing for” he stated, scrutinizing Yuuri. He squirmed uncomfortably.

“N-not r-really. B-but you s-seem pretty upset about it” he replied, turning his gaze to his feet.

“I’m upset on behalf of Viktor, because he’s an idiot who keeps forgiving you much too easily” Christophe sighed. “You should be apologizing to him, not to me anyway. And maybe figure out  _why_  you should be apologizing beforehand.”

With that, he grabbed his bag and walked out of the locker rooms, leaving Yuuri, once again, alone and completely confused. Apologize to Viktor? What had he done? Yes, he  _had_ been pretty harsh to him two years ago on that banquet, and he did still have to apologize for that, but… last year? All he did was finally show Viktor the truth, and receive the rejection he always knew he would receive. What Christophe was so upset about, he had no idea.

He finished getting out of his skates and put them in his bag. Whatever Christophe meant could wait; Celestino must already be expecting him to talk about his performance.

***

Yuuri was sitting on a bench in the closest locker room when it hit him. Viktor was about five minutes away from performing his free.

He glanced at the door. Yes, Viktor asked him to watch, but why? Admittedly, he hadn’t seen his FS before, but why would he care? It wasn’t like Viktor knew he didn’t see it before, and besides, what would he gain from having Yuuri stand there in the audience? Unless…

Of course, a lot of people have brought it up last year, when he took a break, but they were always shot down. Still… Viktor wasn’t getting any younger. He had undeniably written men’s singles figure skating history. He had nothing left to prove, and he was slowly edging closer to the age where he would inevitably have to retire from competitive skating. Of course, he was only going to be twenty-six this winter, but who knows how much longer he wanted to stay in the sport?

Maybe he wanted to go out with a bang. Maybe he didn’t want to keep skating until slowly but surely he started losing his gold medals to possibly less talented but younger, more fit people. Maybe, just maybe, Viktor really was considering retirement.

If that was the case, this may very well be the last time Yuuri got to see him skate in person. He had to see him. If something came up, if one of them did not make it to the Worlds…

He jumped up from the bench, and sprinted out of the room. He knew there were only a few more minutes left until Viktor got on the ice. He had to be there.

He pushed through the curtains and basically slammed into the wall of the rink. Viktor was already on the ice, gliding around as JJ’s scores were being announced.

He looked absolutely stunning. His costume, a deep magenta with a high collar fit his flawless upper body perfectly. He looked like a knight in shining armor. It didn’t escape Yuuri’s attention that ever since they first competed against each other in the 2012 Worlds, this was the first time Viktor’s soulmark was covered.

Of course, he didn’t need to show it off anymore.

As he stood there, gripping the railing, his breath caught in his throat, he felt like he was eighteen again, shaken with the revelation of the bond between him and Viktor. It felt like a huge circle of events had come to the completion. He was, once more, the boy standing on the side, staring at Viktor with eyes filled with wonder, and Viktor was, once more, a god, sliding across the ice with unparalleled beauty and grace.

The first notes of the music penetrated the air.

It was sadness, and Viktor’s movements were soft and gentle. The kind of melancholy that came only with reminiscing about past happiness that one had lost for good. Viktor looked sad, so sad that Yuuri felt like his heart was breaking just from watching it. Whatever he was skating about made him hurt so much that he could make it radiate off of him in waves, engulfing the entire audience in the pain he was feeling.

The music picked up a bit, and the feeling transformed. There was still sorrow, but it was now accompanied by anger; a sudden, desperate fury, like Viktor was fighting back, like he was trying to hurt back whoever hurt him.

The fight was short lived and weak; it left him in just a few seconds, and the quiet, heartbroken gentleness was back. Yuuri noticed that there were tears streaming down his own face.

Suddenly, the music was climbing again, heading toward a new peak, and it felt like a fresh beginning, like Viktor had decided to address the issue differently, like he’d realized that fighting against this person was not going to help, like he wanted to…

Reach out to him.

Yuuri suddenly remembered Viktor’s hand hovering in the space between them.

He gasped and covered his mouth with his hands, eyes never leaving his soulmate, tears now unstoppable.

This was a plea, Viktor was asking for a new chance, his skating filled with a newfound passion, a kind of hope Yuuri had given up on years ago, but he could easily recognize it. It was not the same though, not Yuuri’s hope, because that was a weak thing, constantly stomped out by him, constantly pushed away and shunned. Viktor’s hope was strong, passionate, accompanied by an unfaltering will to fight, to cling to it and not let go, a decision to fight until he was enough, until the hopes in his heart were reality.

The music came to a still, but the singing filled the silence with a final plea, and the whole performance reached a deafening climax, Viktor standing tall in the middle of the ice, all of the lights focusing on him, and Yuuri could only do one thing.

He ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is doing what Yuuri is good at - running away from things that conflict his personal reality! Yay!
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you've all enjoyed this chapter; let me know your thoughts in the comments :) I'm still not a 100% sure how many chapters this will be, although at the moment I think 11+epilogue is more likely. I'll really only know when I'm done with chapter 10 :D
> 
> As for next week's update - I'll do my best to get it done by Saturday, but I'm done jinxing myself by saying that I will have time to write, since that's exactly what happened for the past... two weeks I think? So yea, I'm saying Saturday for now - if the chapter is not up by then, see [my tumblr](https://yoitookovermylife.tumblr.com/) for updates!


	10. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri hits the restart button - and accidently gives Viktor the answer he was looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, it's still Saturday over here! This update is officially on time \o/
> 
> Thank you, as always, for the appreciation you show to this fic through comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions. It really warms my heart.
> 
> So, without further ado; enjoy!

Yuuri was sitting on the bathroom floor. He was heaving, trying to catch his breath and his heart was drumming in his chest like crazy. He could hear his phone buzzing through the open door, and he could hear knocking every now and then. The sounds turned into a harsh, strange cacophony in his head, pushing him further down into the spiral of distress.

He was wrong, he messed all of it up, no wonder Christophe was so angry at him-

For a second, he felt like his airways have been cut off entirely, leaving him gasping for breath with no result at all.

What do I do, what do I do, what do I do, what-

His body was shaking, and there were new tears streaming down his face, dripping onto his knees.

He should’ve stayed, should’ve apologized right there and then, instead he what, ran off, and now Viktor must think he wasn’t even watching, that he didn’t care about him when he did, he really, he-

“…ri, op… door!” Celestino’s voice was drowned out by the door and the distance between them, and Yuuri wasn’t paying too much attention to him anyway. The world narrowed in around him, and the only thing he could think of was how much he messed up, again.

That seemed to be the only thing he was good at. Messing up. No matter what opportunities life gave him, no matter what chances he got, no matter how good his circumstances were, he always found a way to screw it up.

His phone kept buzzing outside.

He buried his face in his knees.

***

He had no idea how much time had passed; all he knew was that everything hurt from crying and sitting on the tiled floor for such a long time. His phone wasn’t buzzing anymore, and there was no impatient knocking on his door. He felt exhausted. He dragged himself to the bed and turned his phone off without checking any of the calls or messages.

He didn’t know what to do next. He was standing in the middle of the hotel room, phone in his hand, and he didn’t know what to do.

He was bone tired. He was scared and confused. He had an intimidating, dreadful inkling that he had well and truly ruined everything by being so damn insecure that he basically pushed his soulmate away.

He pressed his lips together and kicked the nightstand.

All he achieved was a loud thud and a hurting feet.

There was a knock on his door. His heart picked up speed again, and he contemplated ignoring the person outside until they left. After all, it had worked with Celestino earlier, didn’t it?

“Yuuri, will you open the door now?”

Or maybe not.

Yuuri took a deep breath, dropped his phone back on the bed and walked over to let his coach in.

“Thank you” the man said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. Yuuri sat down on the edge of the bed, resolutely avoiding eye contact with Celestino. He was certain his coach was furious at him for running off before his turn on the ice, and he wasn’t exactly prepared to face the music. Or the press. Or the internet.

You get the point.

“Yuuri… what happened?” Celestino didn’t sound angry. That alone made this whole conversation ten times worse.

“I… it’s complicated” he mumbled, staring at his balled fists in his lap.

“Then try to explain. I would like to know why you walked out on the competition.” Celestino was still completely calm and serious. Yuuri wanted to scream.

“Personal reasons” he answered, having to force the words out. He could feel another oncoming attack, and he had a gut feeling that his coach  _would_  push him over the edge. Celestino never really knew when to push and when to leave him alone.

“Yuuri, I need a bit more than that. You walked out on the Grand Prix Finals, everyone wants to know why. You can’t just pull a Nikiforov and disappear for a season without explanation, and then expect a smooth comeback. This will affect your career, unless we-“

“I don’t care!” Yuuri burst out, finally looking up at Celestino. The man’s resolution seemed to waver a bit at whatever he saw on his face. However, the bottle was opened now, and Yuuri didn’t feel like stopping at that one sentence.

“I don’t care about my career right now! I’m an idiot and I’ve messed up everything! Competitive skating will be a part of my life for what, six-seven years more if I don’t injure myself or anything, but he should be a part of it forever, a-and now, it’s m-my fault that h-he won’t be, be-because I am a m-mess who c-can’t get anything right!” He started stumbling over the words as new tears welled up in his eyes. He didn’t think he had any left, but he was proven wrong. “A-and I j-just realized that he c-c-could’ve been, but I p-pushed him away, a-a-a-and I should’ve, I should’ve known be-better and I-I should’ve g-gotten h-help or a s-se-se-second opinion and j-j-just go to him.” Yuuri was straight up sobbing now, barely getting the words out. He didn’t know how much his coach understood from it, and he was way past the point of actually caring.

Celestino watched him in silence for a second before taking a seat on the bed next to him.

“Is this about Viktor?” he asked quietly. Yuuri’s sobs became louder at just the mention of the name, but he managed to nod. It wasn’t like it was still a secret. Everyone who had eyes – or ever went on the internet – knew they were soulmates. His coach remained silent, but started rubbing comforting circles on Yuuri’s back. He was surprised to realize that it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it usually was. Maybe because this time, Celestino actually understood what was making him so upset.

It took Yuuri a good few minutes to calm down again. When he stopped crying, Celestino removed his hand and pat his shoulder encouragingly.

“What are your plans now?” he asked. Yuuri sighed and turned to stare at his bare feet.

Plans… He didn’t really have any. He wanted time, most of all. He wanted to hide and recompose himself, preferably without the pressure of everyone expecting him to act like everything was perfect. He wanted to be left alone with his thoughts until he made some kind of sense of them, because right now, everything was a jumbled mess in his head. He knew he had a tendency to run away from his problems, but at the moment, he couldn’t see that as a negative trait. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, he hid and waited until he slowly managed to sort everything out, before trying to confront the problem.

Technically, that was as good a plan as any.

“All I know is” he started, voice hoarse “that I need some time for myself. I can’t skate like this.”

Celestino frowned, and Yuuri quickly turned his gaze away. He could see that his coach didn’t like that, and he really did understand. It was true that he wasn’t exactly Viktor Nikiforov, and it was questionable what would happen to his reputation if he missed the rest of the season. It was also questionable whether or not he’d be able to get back into the right mindset for competitive skating if he missed a year. It was pretty likely that his sponsorships would take a serious hit, maybe even his fanbase.

There were a lot of questions here. But Yuuri knew that he wouldn’t be able to skate well unless he could compose himself. The emotional turmoil that had sent him stumbling from attack to attack wouldn’t completely disappear after a night’s rest.

“You should probably talk to him” Celestino said quietly. Yuuri bit his lip and shook his head.

He probably should, he knew that. But the thought of facing Viktor, of letting the rest of his already fragile reality crumble down… or maybe be proven wrong about what the program meant, it was so terrifying that he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it anytime soon.

“I can’t. Not yet” he whispered, not being able to admit it any louder. He hated letting people see his weakness, but he needed Celestino to see that he wasn’t kidding around.

“Let’s just agree that we’ll see what happens after we’ve gone back home, huh?” Celestino prompted after a minute of tense silence. “See how you’re feeling. For now, we’ll tell the press that you’ve had health issues and couldn’t participate in the competition. If you still feel like you can’t perform when we get to the Nationals, we’ll come up with some way to explain it” he offered. Yuuri nodded quietly. He could see that Celestino was certain he’ll see reason by the time of the Nationals, and will go and do the competition obediently.

He didn’t feel like trying to explain to him why that won’t be happening.

“Well, get some rest, Yuuri. You’ve had a long and tiring day. Sleep well!” his coach said, standing up from the bed, smiling at him. Yuuri nodded again.

He didn’t feel like trying to explain to him why that, also, won’t be happening.

***

Just like he knew he would be, Phichit was on Yuuri’s case the second he’d stepped into their flat. His go-to phrase was “talk about it”.

However, Yuuri did not, at all, want to talk about it.

He locked himself into his room – once more very happy about finally having his own room – and tried to get his mind off of the whole issue by binge watching some of his favorite anime, only leaving to get food and visit the bathroom. It took two days of this behavior to convince Phichit to stop trying to force it out of him, and Yuuri was extraordinarily happy when one morning he was greeted by Phichit complaining about university work instead of nagging him to open up.

Even in spite of all the progress he’d made, Yuuri was still not a big fan of opening up. And as much as he loved and trusted Phichit, he knew that the only possible advice that would come from this particular conversation would be “talk to him”.

He knew it would be the best course of action, okay? He knew he should talk to Viktor. He wasn’t a complete idiot.

Viktor wasn’t impossible to reach, Yuuri could probably find some way to contact him, and it wouldn’t even require that much effort. But whenever he opened up social media with the resolute decision to write him, he shied away almost immediately. It was scary. The further he was in time from actually witnessing the Stammi Vicino routine, the more and more uncertain he grew. He kept forcing himself to watch it, in hopes that maybe he would see something in it that was unquestionably meant for him, some irrefutable proof that the right interpretation of this program was definitely Viktor calling out to him, but he just couldn’t find it. And in turn, he was completely unable to gather up the courage to reach out.

Meanwhile, he couldn’t really think about anything else. He tried really hard to focus on other things, things that did not involve Viktor and soulmarks and anything related to the issue. He was not successful. He was distracted and anxious all the time, to the point where, in the end, it was Celestino who suggested that maybe he should practice a bit less.

Celestino, who, by the way, seemed to realize very quickly that Yuuri was in no way ready to skate in another competition. He kept forgetting elements in the middle of the routine, his skating was lacking in emotions again, and his jumps were, in the lack of a better word, catastrophic.

He wasn’t feeling the way he was after the banquet fiasco. He wasn’t exactly depressed, he was just… completely overwhelmed, and very, very anxious. He had a hard time sleeping and concentrating, and he constantly felt like the world around him was rushing in five different directions all the time, and he couldn’t keep up with anything that was happening.

His anxiety kept acting up. The constant cacophony of thoughts kept him on edge, and he felt like he was a raw nerve, exposed to the world with no protection at all.

It wasn’t an unknown feeling to him, but it did not mean that it was a welcome one in any way.

***

“Yuuri… we need to do something about this” Phichit said, still caressing Yuuri’s hair. The Japanese boy sighed and buried his face into the pillow in Phichit’s lap.

“You’ve been having an alarming amount of attacks recently, and even when you’re not, you’re constantly on edge. We need to figure out a way to help you relax. I’m still saying you should see a professional.” Yuuri shook his head as well as he could while it was still in Phichit’s lap. The Thai skater gave an exasperated sigh.

“There is nothing wrong with seeking professional help, Yuuri. It doesn’t make you weak or anything like that” he explained for what seemed like the millionth time. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know. But I don’t need it, I just need to sort things out in my head” Yuuri mumbled in answer, earning another sigh.

“Well, you don’t exactly look like you’re doing that, either. How you passed your exams is a mystery when you can’t even focus on a three minute routine for long enough to remember the components…”

Yuuri laughed bitterly.

“Believe me, Phi, I have no idea at all. Probably luck” he shrugged, closing his eyes. He felt exhausted, and falling asleep with his head in Phichit’s lap seemed like a really good way to get some rest.

“Still, you can’t just… sit around and wait for things to magically end up being okay. You know that’s not how this works” Phichit chided him. He groaned, but didn’t try to argue. He knew Phichit was right. Phichit was always right when it came to stuff like this. Yet it seemed easier said than done.

After a longer silence, Phichit suddenly snapped his fingers, startling Yuuri.

“Yuuri, what was the last time you were home?” he asked. Yuuri glanced up at him and shrugged.

“A while ago” he answered.

“Have you been home at all since you moved to America?” his friend asked with a deadpan expression. He huffed.

“Well I’ve been to the Nationals, so–“

“I don’t mean Japan, Yuuri, I mean home. Hasetsu. Yu-topia.”

Yuuri bit his lip and turned away again. He hadn’t been home in years, had he? He’d only seen his parents through video chat since he was eighteen. All of the sudden, the homesickness he hadn’t really been dealing with ever since his first few months in America hit him in the chest. He thought of the little ocean-side town, the quiet streets, Hasetsu castle overlooking the town, the long walks he used to take on  the beach, collecting seashells, the early risers who would wave at him as he jogged to the Ice Castle. His mom’s delicious cooking filling the entire house with enticing scents, the smell of his sister’s cigarettes, the sound of his dad’s voice as he entertained the guests with various stories and conversations.

“You’re right” he whispered. “I miss home.”

Phichit smiled gently and stroked his hair again.

“Then maybe you should take some time off from skating and university and America, and go home for a bit. I think it would do you a lot of good. Whatever Celestino is saying, you’re still young, you still have years left of your career. You can afford one half of a season to put yourself together. Your health, mental health included, is more important, even for your career, than skating this season” Phichit reasoned.

“You don’t have to convince me” Yuuri mumbled. “Celestino on the other hand…”

“I’ll talk to him” Phichit declared without missing a beat. “Don’t worry about Celestino. Worry about handling the paperwork at school and getting yourself a plane ticket.”

Yuuri smiled to himself and closed his eyes again.

“Thank you, Phichit.”

“Anytime, Yuuri. Anytime.”

***

Hasetsu had barely changed.

Of course, there were a lot of small changes, like the new escalators at the train station or the increased number of posters of Yuuri, or the handful of local businesses that had been closed in the past three and a half years. Still, the town itself was still the same old sleepy, ocean-side town Yuuri remembered.

The same was true about the onsen, with one small, but all the more significant detail.

“Hello, Vicchan.”

The little shrine made Yuuri’s heart clench painfully. Even though it had been over a year, he still couldn’t forgive himself for not being able to say goodbye to his faithful companion.

“I miss you, boy” he said quietly, staring at the picture. It was that first picture of him and Vicchan together, the one he had as his phone background for years, the one he had shown Viktor, and basically everyone who had ever asked him about his dog. “I’ve been thinking about you every day, ever since I last saw you. You… you meant so much to me, Vicchan. You helped me through so many tough times. I’m sorry that I… I wasn’t here when you would’ve needed me.” He rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the tears that already started welling up.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye properly. I should’ve been here, or even if I really couldn’t be on that day, I should’ve visited earlier. I… I h-have so m-much to thank you for.” The tears were starting to become nigh impossible to get rid of. “You were always there for me, during some of the worst times of my life. I will ne-never forget you.”

Yuuri stopped speaking. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get another word out without sobbing. He bowed his head and stared ahead, fighting the tears. He’d never really allowed himself to say goodbye to his beloved pet, because he didn’t know how to. Somehow the fact that Vicchan was dead had never been as real as now. His presence was unmistakably gone from their family home, something Yuuri could never even imagine before. Part of him had clung to the belief that if he’d only come home, Vicchan would somehow be here to welcome him home, like after all of those hours of training when he was still a teenager. Unconsciously, he had expected to come home to his dear poodle barking at him, excitedly jumping around, wagging his tail like he’d just gotten the best gift in the history of gifts.

But Vicchan was really gone, and there was no bringing him back.

***

His room was almost eerily similar to the way he’d left it. There was fresh bedding on his bed, and some objects have been slightly moved, due to his mom dusting and vacuuming his room every now and then, and there were a few small boxes Yuuri had recognized as the ones he’d sent his medals home in. Other than these small details, everything was in its place. The wall was still covered in posters of Viktor, his cactus was still alive and well – probably also thanks to his mother –, the boxes he packed his stuff into still took up most of the room in his closet, and his chair was still as creaky as ever.

The differences in his hometown and his family home seemed fitting somehow. Looking at the whole picture, he didn’t seem to have changed much either. He was still anxious, antisocial, quiet little Yuuri. At the same time, there were a million little things that had changed during his time in America. Good and bad, some he was proud of, some he wasn’t. But he wasn’t the same Yuuri who had left this room all those years ago.

He sat down on his bed, feeling his throat tighten. He wasn’t feeling sad, not really. He wasn’t scared either. He had no idea why he was feeling like crying. But there was something truly, deeply bittersweet about being back here.

He looked up at the posters surrounding him.

They were the mementos of a Yuuri who knew nothing about Viktor; a Yuuri who had adored the brilliant skater in him, who had fallen in love with his image and the way he awed everyone whenever he stepped on the ice, who had fawned over the long, silver locks and bright blue eyes. But that Yuuri was gone now.

Because he now loved the man who could smile brighter than the sun, because he now knew what he did to be that brilliant skater, now he knew so much more about why he could do what he did on the ice, because now, Viktor Nikiforov was not just a poster anymore, a brilliant skater, a role model, or even an unreachable, god-like man who turned out to be, by some weird twist of the universe, his soulmate.

Because Viktor was a person now. A person like him, with hopes and dreams, with fears and insecurities, with faults and mistakes. And as afraid as he still felt about actually talking to him, he knew that Viktor wasn’t unreachable, he wasn’t some form of a deity; he was just as human as Yuuri.

He smiled faintly, and stood up.

If he wanted to gather the courage to sit down with Viktor as an equal, he should start by letting him climb off the pedestal Yuuri had always put him on.

***

Being back at the Ice Castle opened up a whole new gate into the past.

Skating lazy figure eights, his mind wandered to his childhood. He remembered fooling around on this very ice with Yuuko and Nishigori. He remembered Yuuko’s excited voice when he managed to copy a sequence from one of Viktor’s programs perfectly.

He remembered the day Yuuko and Takeshi found each other, and he skated here alone, trying to work up some enthusiasm for the whole thing. He remembered coming here after that again and again, more and more times on his own, because the future Nishigoris were busy with each other. He remembered the hurt and anger that he tried to suppress, that he was desperately trying not to admit to for years.

Of course he was hurt by their behavior back then. After all, he was still supposed to be their friend, yet they kept leaving him alone with his dreams and struggles until he just resolved to handle everything by himself. Maybe their behavior then played a part in his general resolution to try and solve all of his problems alone.

However, that anger was behind him now. He’d long forgiven them for those years.

He remembered seeing Viktor skate for the first time on the crappy TV in the locker room. He remembered being that little kid, eyes fixed on the beautiful, graceful, perfect skater on the screen.

However, he also remembered watching Viktor revealing his new hairstyle during the GPS a few years back, and he remembered realizing that the Viktor whose skating he first fell in love with was a kid himself. He was sixteen, a brilliant skater, yes, and undoubtedly champion material from the very beginning, but he was also really young and unrefined compared to the skater he was now.

He smiled to himself. Thinking of Viktor as unrefined in any way was strange, but he knew it was true. Nobody was born a figure skating legend, not even Viktor.

Maybe it was the atmosphere or the nostalgic mood, but he quickly found himself slipping into one of Viktor’s old routines. It’s been forever since he tried to do any of them, but the hours upon hours of copying Viktor didn’t just disappear without a trace. He was quite certain he wasn’t skating perfect copies, but it was close enough.

It felt safe. It felt familiar. It felt warm in a way that could easily defeat the cold of the rink.

It felt like dancing with Viktor.

Except this time, Viktor wasn’t holding him; he was with him in a whole different level, in a way he had been long before they’d even met.

There was some part of Viktor living inside him, and, as he executed the very first step sequence he’d ever seen Viktor do, he hoped that maybe there was some part of him living inside Viktor too.

***

“So… where are Takeshi-kun and the triplets?” Yuuri asked, glancing around the suspiciously quiet apartment.

“The girls are over on a birthday party and Takeshi is meeting up with some high school friends of his” Yuuko smiled, gesturing to the couch. “Anything to drink?”

“Just water, thanks” Yuuri smiled, taking a seat. Yuuko joined him a few minutes later.

“So. Someone has a lot of explaining to do” she said, trying to look upset, but not being able to get rid of the teasing grin. Yuuri sighed and blushed a bit.

“I know, Yuu-chan. I’m sorry.” Yuuko’s smile transformed into one of gentle understanding.

“It’s okay, Yuuri-kun. I’ve heard a lot about what’s been going on in your life, some of it from you, some of it from your family, some of it from the internet. I understand that you couldn’t keep everyone constantly up to date. Honestly, I’m really proud of you for handling all of it so well” she said, squeezing Yuuri’s hand. He smiled as well, accepting the gesture.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re not the only one whose calls I didn’t really answer” he mumbled, still a bit red. Yuuko chuckled.

“I know how much you  _love_  talking on the phone, Yuuri-kun” she grinned. Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh himself.

“Too true.”

They remained in companionable silence for a few minutes, Yuuri mostly just taking in the changes in the family’s flat. Gone were the baby toys and the general chaos left in the wake of newborns; instead, there was a new kind of chaos left in the wake of three five year old girls with an undeniable love for skating. There was some new furniture, and the walls were covered in a lot more photos than upon his last visit here.

“I’ve missed so many years of their lives” Yuuri mumbled, looking at one of the pictures of the girls at the Ice Castle, without really registering that he was speaking. Yuuko hummed, but was still wearing a smile on her face.

“True. But even if you weren’t here physically, they know all about you. They love your skating. I used to put on skating videos whenever I couldn’t get them to stop making a ruckus, and they always ended up asking for you. Speaking of… they’d be absolutely over the moon if you’d skate with them one of these days.” Yuuri smiled, a bit embarrassed. It was still strange for him to think that there were people who sat at home and watched his performances multiple times, just because they thought he was that good.

“Of course. I wouldn’t mind” he nodded. Yuuko smiled brightly at him, then poked his side.

“Now, if you’re done with the nostalgia, I’m really going crazy over here, because I need to know what this whole thing between you and Viktor is! I only know bits and pieces, and I’m done theorizing!” Yuuri groaned and leaned back on the couch. He knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t get away without explaining everything to Yuuko, but that didn’t exactly mean he was ready for this conversation. Just like he didn’t want to talk about it with Phichit, he didn’t want to talk about it with Yuuko.

However, Yuuko  _was_  his childhood best friend, and she was right in saying that Yuuri had barely told her anything. Technically, Yuuko didn’t know any part of the story, because Yuuri had never said a word about Viktor.

Actually, thinking about it, he had never even told Yuuko that he had found his soulmate.

Yeah, he owed her an explanation.

“So… I guess you put two and two together, like the entire internet, and figured out that we’re soulmates” he started hesitantly. There was no point in explaining every little detail as if Yuuko didn’t have at least strong guesses.

“Yes, it wasn’t too hard. Your marks not only fit, but they look kind of similar, too” she said, glancing at Yuuri’s shoulder. Of course his mark was hidden under a long-sleeved shirt, although not with the intention to stop people from seeing it; he had no reason to keep hiding it anymore.

“Yeah… well, obviously I knew since that first Worlds we skated at together, because, well, I was standing right there. And even if I wasn’t, it was all over the internet, it would’ve been pretty hard to miss. So, uh…” he trailed off, trying to figure out a way to give Yuuko the story without having to talk about his feelings too much.

“I figured as much. What did he say when you told him?” Yuuko asked. The presumption that Yuuri had told Viktor, even if not immediately, was quite understandable, but made Yuuri’s job much harder.

“I… well, I didn’t” he answered, turning to look at the glass of water he was still holding in his hands.

“You… what?” Yuuko asked after a long second of shocked silence. Yuuri sighed.

“I didn’t tell him. I didn’t think it was a good idea.” There was no way he’d get out of this conversation without having to discuss his mental health.

“Didn’t… b-but… Yuuri-kun, why?” Yuuko managed to stutter out. He shrugged.

“I thought he deserved someone better. That he was looking for someone better” he admitted quietly, already opening his mouth to start a new sentence but never getting a chance.

“What?! Yuuri-kun, you can’t be serious! Avoiding this whole problem is exactly the best thing about having a soulmate! Soulmates are meant to be, there’s no such thing–“

“Well I think differently” Yuuri interrupted, frustration slipping into his voice, looking up at Yuuko with an annoyed expression. “You should’ve heard him talk about it, he was over the moon over someone he didn’t even know, he talked about them like they were the best thing in this entire universe, and then it was just… me. Plain, old, ordinary me. And please don’t give me the speech about self-respect, Phichit already beat you to it” he added quickly, turning his head to the side and eyeing the door. This conversation was going even worse than he thought it would, and he just brought a completely different conflict into it.

There was another long silence.

“Yuuri-kun… I… I know there were times when I should’ve been there for you and I wasn’t. I know that’s not only the past few years since you’ve moved to America, but even before that. And I… I’m sorry. I know it hasn’t been easy for you. I… I should’ve been a better friend” she finished, suddenly sounding a bit chocked up. Yuuri turned back to her, just to see that this time, it was her who wasn’t looking his way. He reached for her hand.

“It’s not just your fault. I’ve never tried to let you know that I needed support, and you know how proud and stubborn I can be. I don’t think I would’ve accepted your help and advice, even if you had offered it.” He hesitated for a second, and then squeezed her hand. “Besides, it’s in the past. I forgave you a long time ago” he smiled. Yuuko glanced back up and gave him a weak smile in return.

“But… you know it’s not true then, right? That you’re not… good enough for him?” Yuuri sighed and let go of her hand.

“I… I’m not sure. I believed that for a while, that was part of why I revealed my mark, but… now I’m not sure anymore.” He could see Yuuko’s confused expression from the corner of his eye.

“Why? What happened?”

This was the part that he’d never spoken about. He still wasn’t sure, at all. Him completely misunderstanding the message behind the routine was still a possibility, and he didn’t know how to explain it without sounding like an idiot.

“His last free skate…” Yuuri took a deep breath and tried to collect his thoughts. “Before the competition began, he… asked me to watch his free skate. I… I wasn’t sure… well, I’m still not sure why, but… Anyway, there was something… I think he was trying to give me a message? But I don’t know what it is, or, well, I have a guess, but I’m not sure I’m right, and if I’m not, I’d just make myself look like an idiot again, and… ugh” he groaned, and stopped talking. He knew he wasn’t making too much sense, but his thoughts weren’t making much sense either. He glanced at Yuuko to see her reaction. She was wearing a contemplative expression, which gave Yuuri slight hope that maybe he’d get an advice that wasn’t “talk to him”.

“So, if I’m getting this right… He asked you to watch his free skate, and then you saw a message in that free skate, right?” Yuuri nodded. “I’d say there probably was a message, I mean… why else would he ask you to watch? If he wasn’t trying to convey something, he wouldn’t have tried to make sure you would be there to see it, right?” Yuuri himself hadn’t thought about it that way, but he nodded again. It sounded logical. “I’m guessing you didn’t–“

“No, I didn’t talk to him” he interrupted, once again avoiding eye contact.

“You wouldn’t… and I suppose you don’t want to hear me say you should?” Yuuri shook his head. He heard an exasperated sigh – oh so similar to the ones he was used to hear Phichit give him –, and then there was a hand on his shoulder.

“In that case, you need to keep thinking about the program. You’ve watched him skate since you were a kid. You know his skating almost as well as he himself does. If he was trying to give you a message, I’m sure you will find it. And if there was no message, you’ll see that as well.” Yuuri looked back up at Yuuko, and contemplated her words. She was right. He did know Viktor’s skating inside out, he skated a big percent of his programs, he listened to him talk about most of them, he knew the way Viktor made his points with his routines. If he couldn’t find the message in Stammi Vicino, who could?

He smiled at Yuuko, suddenly feeling more confident than he had in months.

“That’s a great idea, actually. Thank you, Yuu-chan.”

“Anytime, Yuuri-kun” she smiled gently.

***

After that, Yuuri started learning Stammi Vicino with everything he had. He hadn’t felt this dedicated to learn a routine ever since History Maker and Yuuri on Ice. He felt like he could best understand the program if he skated it himself. He watched Viktor skate it over and over, he jogged over to the Ice Castle to practice it every day, he invested himself so deeply into it that he even started dreaming about skating it. He started gaining a new kind of knowledge about the routine, and, just like Yuuko suggested, he started noticing new and new things about it.

It wasn’t as difficult, technique-wise, as some of Viktor’s previous programs. Of course, presentation was always first for him (except for maybe the year he had his hair cut, but Yuuri was willing to disregard that), but something about the composition of Stammi Vicino told him that the focus of this one was, without question, the story behind it.

It was still a Viktor Nikiforov program, obviously, so it was light years from easy, and Yuuri did struggle a bit, but his determination kept him in line, and helped him keep practicing.

He understood it better and better every time he skated it, and with that, he understood Viktor better and better. He was starting to find the solid evidence he’d been looking for; the kind of longing he skated the program with was eerily similar to the one he’d built his own longing themed routines on. But this came from Viktor. And Viktor asked Yuuri to watch him when he performed it.

Why else? It could’ve been mockery, of course, but not only did Yuuri think Viktor was above that, the routine was much too honest to be anything but genuine.

If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Stammi Vicino came straight from Viktor’s heart.

***

Yuuri was at the Ice Castle again, instead of sitting in front of the TV at home, watching the World Championships. He knew Viktor was going to skate Stammi Vicino again, and part of him wanted to see, but he was… well, he was scared. He was certain he didn’t misread the program now, but he still didn’t know how to talk to Viktor about it. Part of him was worried that he was too late, again, and Viktor had already accepted that Yuuri didn’t want him. Which was stupid. Yuuri had wanted Viktor way before he even knew they were soulmates, and would always continue to want him.

He huffed and stopped in the middle of the ice. Viktor himself would be skating right around now in Boston. He would be raising his head just like this, and…

Yuuri was skating Stammi Vicino again, but something was different this time. He felt some sort of… finality in it. He knew Viktor would be skating it for the last time just then, and he had a feeling that it would be the last time he himself skated it.

He understood the message now, but more, he made it his own. He wanted to reach out to Viktor just as much as Viktor wanted to reach out to him, but he, also, had no idea how to do it without his skates on.

He skated Stammi Vicino the way only he could skate it – and it wasn’t a copy of Viktor anymore, even though the routine was the same. It wasn’t Viktor’s Stammi Vicino anymore; it was Yuuri’s.

He stood in the final pose for a second, then gasped for breath and leaned on his knees.

“Yuuri, that was brilliant!” He looked up, surprised to see Yuuko standing there with her hands in front of her mouth. For a moment, they were looking at each other, both of them letting the meaning of what Yuuri was doing a second ago sink in, but then they were interrupted by the sound of three cheering girls.

“Amazing!”

“A perfect copy of Viktor!”

“Yuuri-kun is so amazing!”

Yuuri gave the triplets and their mother an embarrassed grin, and skated closer to the barrier.

“Hello, girls. Ready for another lesson?” he asked them, trying to quickly steer the topic from his own skating. The affirmative shouts signaled that he was successful.

***

“I’m sorry, Yuuri! The triplets uploaded the video, and it was all over the internet before we could do anything about it!”

Yuuri slowly lowered his phone, and stared ahead without even hanging up.

Once again, things had completely spiraled out of his control overnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice that this is definitely not the last chapter before the epilogue; I ended up wanting to detail the things I've written about in this chapter more than I've originally planned, so there will be one more chapter, and _then_ the epilogue!
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, let me know your thoughts in the comments! ^^
> 
> Next chapter is also most likely to come out on Saturday, if it's not up on Saturday, you can refer to [my YoI blog](https://yoitookovermylife.tumblr.com/) for info!


	11. The Space Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all the heartbreak, misunderstandings and lack of communication, Yuuri and Viktor finally attempt to walk through the space between them and meet in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the last chapter before the epilogue, where our boys finally manage to talk to each other! (I'm so emotional ._. )
> 
> Thank you, as always, for the comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscribes, they make me really happy!
> 
> Enjoy~

Yuuri turned his phone off – permanently.

He would not read the comments on the video, he would not check social media, he would not answer any phone calls. Maybe, just maybe, this way he could pretend that the whole thing didn’t happen, and that there was no Youtube video of him skating Viktor’s routine.

Hah. As if.

Honestly, he was kind of…

Well, scared alone wasn’t a good word for it. He was afraid of the consequences, yes, but under that, he actually felt sort of… excited?

Skating was always the thing that put Viktor and him into motion. When they weren’t skating, their relationship got stuck in whatever phase it was in at the moment. Skating got them where they were now, in all aspects of life. Maybe if Viktor saw the video, he’d…

He’d what? Run to Yuuri? Fall seduced into his arms?

Yuuri wasn’t a complete idiot, even if he had to clarify that an unnerving amount of times recently. He knew perfectly well that it was time for him to reach out to Viktor, and while there was probably the shadow of a gesture to be seen behind the accidental video, he couldn’t expect that to be enough.

He had to find a way to gather up his courage and talk to Viktor. He owed him as much, after all of this.

He shook his head to get rid of the anxious thoughts. He could do this. He’ll walk inside the house right now, sit down with his computer, get his hands on Viktor’s email address and write him. He couldn’t let a stupid inferiority complex keep him from the possibility of happiness – or at the very least being a more decent human being than he had been for the past couple of years.

He walked inside, took his shoes off and walked over into the kitchen with the intention of grabbing some comfort food before going up to his room to inevitably spend a handful of hours agonizing over trying to overcome his fears about contacting Viktor.

“Hi” he waved upon noticing his sister sitting on one of the stools. She jumped up the second she saw him and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“You didn’t say a word about this! What the hell, Yuuri, you can’t just invite someone like him and not tell anyone!” Mari said, making Yuuri absolutely confused about what he might have done now.

“Uh…”

“No excuses! What is he doing here? Is this about that video? You said that wasn’t intentional!” his sister continued, not minding Yuuri’s confusion in the slightest. She seemed… kind of angry, but more shocked than anything. Yuuri shook his head.

“M-Mari, what are you talking about?” he asked in the short second when his sister decided to take a breath. She closed and opened her mouth a few times, then huffed, giving Yuuri a deadpan expression.

“I don’t know, maybe, like, Viktor Nikiforov walking through the door this afternoon while you were gone doing… whatever it is you do when you’re gone?” Yuuri felt his heart miss a beat.

“What?!” he, well, shrieked, as much as he wouldn’t admit to having done it ever again, and grabbed the kitchen counter. He stared at Mari in shock for a second – who, by the way, joined him on the complete confusion train –, then started laughing.

“Wow, good joke, nee-chan, I almost believed you for a second!” he said, grinning in a slightly hysterical way. There was no way Viktor was actually here. He was probably still in Boston, or, best case scenario, in Saint Petersburg.

Okay, technically it wasn’t impossible, Boston was not that far from Detroit, and based on Yuuri’s experience, it had been long enough for Viktor to get here if he flew straight to Japan after the banquet – taking the time difference into account –, so he  _could’ve_  been here, but…

“W-wha... Yuuri, I’m not kidding! He’s gotten here like two hours ago!”

His sister was being serious without a doubt. Yuuri gasped and leaned on the counter for support, because he could feel his knees weakening.

He was so not prepared for this.

***

He’d spent about an hour in the kitchen, trying to achieve some semblance of a calm, collected person. His sister sat with him the entire time, luckily refraining from asking any sort of questions connected to the issue.

Yuuri really didn’t need any help asking the questions himself.

After finally being able to get up from the stool and get a glass of water, Yuuri glanced at the door.

“So… what’s the plan?” Mari asked.

Yuuri hated that question. He hated it with passion.

“Well… he came here for some reason. I guess I’ll just… have to talk to him, right?” he asked, somewhat hesitantly. Mari started nodding vehemently.

“Yes, yes, definitely. He’s in the old banquet room upstairs, it was the only one still empty.” Yuuri nodded quietly, and left the kitchen before he could change his mind.

He felt suspiciously calm while maneuvering through the house. He didn’t think of anything, he just… walked. He didn’t even consider the lack of rampant thoughts or panic. The inn was filled with noises, it being around dinner time, but the further he was from the dining area, the quieter everything seemed to be, until the chatter faded to soft background noise.

His mind caught up with the situation when he finally arrived in front of the door he’d been looking for.

This was it. Viktor was behind that door, and Yuuri couldn’t avoid him this time, he couldn’t run away or make up some excuse or push him away with his self-induced, anxious, poisonous thoughts. He had to face him – not only because the circumstances forced him, but also because Viktor deserved it. Yuuri had been straight up refusing to talk to him about any of this for years, he avoided the conversation over and over, until the confusion and the secrets and their respective, differing, hurtful realities filled up the empty space between them. And now it wasn’t so easy to get through. On that day, when Yuuri first  _saw_  Viktor, it was just a big empty space, and if he was braver then, they wouldn’t be in this situation now. They could’ve crossed that space with just a little bit of courage. But now that space was filled with debris, things they needed to fight themselves through to be able to meet in the middle, and Yuuri was terrified of that. More than that, he was terrified that Viktor will end up finding it too much trouble, and give up on him – on them.

He came all the way here for you – a quiet voice in the back of his head whispered –, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to try.

He took a deep breath.

He knocked three times.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence; long enough that Yuuri thought that maybe Viktor wasn’t even there, that maybe he was down in the onsen, or taking a walk or something of the sort.

Then he heard footsteps, and the door opened.

He was there, standing right in front of him.

Yuuri took a second to take him in. Viktor looked absolutely exhausted; he was in a simple grey shirt and black sweatpants, and there were slight but visible bags under his eyes. His hair was somewhat tousled, and he looked generally like he hadn’t slept properly in days.

“Yuuri” he said quietly, and the longing in his voice made Yuuri want to step closer and hug him until it was gone.

“Hello, Viktor” he answered instead, in a similar manner.

The world seemed to stand still around them, and it felt like they were both sizing up the space between them, trying to gather the strength to work their way across it.

Viktor stepped to the side.

“Come in” he said, and Yuuri nodded, walked inside and closed the door behind them. He couldn’t look at Viktor, so he just looked over to the open window. The spring evening air was refreshing, and he could hear some dogs barking in the distance.

“We should talk then, shouldn’t we?” he asked, almost a whisper. There were a few seconds of silence, and then he heard Viktor’s footsteps. The older man sat down on the bed that must have been dragged in there sometime during the afternoon.

“We should. We… certainly have a lot to talk about” he nodded, gesturing for Yuuri to join him. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, before walking over and taking a seat on the bed. Not too close to Viktor, but next to him.

“We do” he admitted, once again not certain about what to say. He avoided having to look at Viktor once more and fixed his gaze on his own hands. There was a long silence – it felt like hours, but probably wasn’t more than just a minute or two.

“I… I’m not sure what you want me to be to you, Yuuri” Viktor said suddenly, voice almost shockingly weak. Yuuri couldn’t help but look up at him. “I don’t know what you think of me, and I don’t know what you want from me. Sometimes… especially during the last two and a half years, I wasn’t even sure you don’t just… straight up hate me.”

Yuuri felt like he was slapped in the face.

“I don’t hate you” he rushed to say, and he felt his throat constrict. “I hate myself” he continued without even really considering what he was saying. Of course, he realized the second it was out of his mouth, so he pressed his lips together and turned away again. He could feel the tears threatening to slip. It was important that he tell Viktor about this, about how he never meant to push him away, because even just the idea that Viktor might think that Yuuri  _hates_  him was absolutely horrifying. But being open and honest about it was really hard.

“Why?” Viktor asked. And somehow, Yuuri wasn’t angry at him for asking, because there was something about the soft, gentle tone of his voice, the lack of stuttering or aggressively defensive comments upon his confession that made him feel safe. Viktor didn’t tell him he shouldn’t feel this way, or that he was wrong in thinking that way about himself; he just asked him to explain. Of course, it didn’t make answering the question any easier. He didn’t know what to say, how to start explaining, because it was such a long story, and everything came together, and he couldn’t possibly answer this question without referring to other things that Viktor also didn’t know about. And no matter how gently and carefully Viktor had asked, he was still afraid, he still wanted to hide what he felt, because opening up was hard and terrifying and he was not at all good at it.

He must’ve taken a very long time trying to figure out an answer, because Viktor sighed.

“You don’t have to answer that, Yuuri. I can… I have different questions” he said, and Yuuri, despite really wanting to answer, despite not wanting to make Viktor think that he didn’t deserve to get answers for  _all_ of his questions, nodded. Maybe going about it a different way would help him figure out a way to word his feelings.

“So… You’ve known for a long time, since the Worlds in two thousand… eleven? Your first Worlds.”

“Twelve” Yuuri corrected. He saw Viktor nodding from the corner of his eye.

“Twelve. So… If you’ve known, why… why did you never tell me?” He didn’t sound accusatory, and he didn’t sound angry. There was that deep longing again, and hurt, so much hurt. Yuuri bit his lip and fought down his tears once more.

“I-I wanted t-to” he stuttered, trying to keep it together.

“Then why didn’t you? I was… I was right there, we were together during the medal ceremony and then the photos and the interviews. You could’ve had plenty of opportunities, so why not?” Viktor sounded a tiny bit more heated.

“B-because… I don’t know about Russia, b-but here in Japan this is a private thing! We were in a public place, I-I couldn’t tell you there!” he said, getting more protective, even though he actually agreed with Viktor in retrospect. He shouldn’t have waited, especially given his tendency to lose confidence, he should’ve just pulled Viktor aside and tell him, right after they skated.

“Okay, okay” Viktor said, his voice losing its edge again. “What about the hotel? Did you not find me?”

Yuuri sighed deeply. He had to answer, he had to explain it. He could feel his heart beating  _hard_  in his chest, and he knew he was treading on dangerous ground. He paid careful attention to his breathing and keeping his thoughts in line for a second, then started talking.

“I wanted to do that. I planned on getting back and then finding you and telling you. But then…” he trailed off, remembering the moment it all went wrong. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I s-saw myself in the m-mirror. A-and… I-I remembered t-that I’m just… me” he said, a weak laughter following the sentence. “And you’re… you. A-and I never… I would never deserve you” he finished, opening his arms in a ‘what can you do’ gesture, then leaning on his knees and burying his face in his hands. Viktor remained quiet.

Yuuri felt himself getting lost in his head again. His heart was still beating with loud, unnerving thuds, and his breathing quickened. He couldn’t help the tears welling up in his eyes. There, he would nicely demonstrate why he was a nobody compared to Viktor, and then he couldn’t do anything but agree and leave him. At least it’d finally be over, and if he stopped skating, he’d never have to meet him again.

“Yuuri.”

Viktor’s voice was steady and gentle, and when Yuuri glanced at him, he could see that Viktor’s hand was once more hovering in the space between them, before falling onto the bed halfway across.

“Why did you think something like that about yourself?” he asked softly, and Yuuri suddenly felt irrationally angry.

“I don’t need another talk in self-appreciation, Viktor” he snapped. “I’ve heard it more than enough times, and I don’t really think like that anymore, but it doesn’t change what those thoughts made me do back then.” Viktor looked a bit taken aback, but nodded. Yuuri looked away again, already feeling bashful over his outburst.

“Or not do” he added after some silence. Viktor huffed.

“What made you change your mind? At the GPF in the previous season, what happened?” Viktor broke the silence after a few minutes.

Now _that_ Yuuri couldn’t explain. There were things he could’ve said, but he wasn’t certain what really made him pick the transparent sleeves in the end. There were so many factors; he didn’t know which the decisive one was.

“I… I guess I just… stopped caring, I think” he said after some thinking. “After the argument we had, I…” he trailed off, looking over at Viktor.

The raw hurt he saw on his face cut off the rest of the sentence permanently.

This time, it was Viktor who had to look away.

“So… you stopped caring” Viktor repeated, his voice devoid of all emotion. Yuuri suddenly understood how he must’ve sounded.

“No, I… not about you, I could never stop caring about you!” he exclaimed passionately. “I just…” he continued, returning to his normal, shy demeanor. “I was so afraid that you would… that if you’d ever see my mark, you’d turn me away. I was so afraid that you’d reject me, and that fear stopped me from telling you. A-and then… After that argument, I-I felt like it couldn’t get worse, that even by telling you, I couldn’t ruin this any further. So I… I did” he finished. Viktor glanced back at him with a sigh.

“Technically, Yuuri, you didn’t” he added, prompting Yuuri to bite his lip and avoid eye contact again.

“I-I couldn’t face you any more directly” he answered. His words were followed by even more silence.

“You should’ve, you know” Viktor said quietly. “Because this way, I thought…” he trailed off, prompting Yuuri to glance at his face. He seemed conflicted, like he wanted to say and not say something in an equal measure. “This way, I thought  _you_  rejected  _me_. I thought you were saying you don’t care, that you don’t want me.” The words started to come pouring out of Viktor now, like the decision to admit to his feelings broke some sort of a dam that, so far, kept him from doing anything but getting Yuuri’s point of view on their relationship. “And it hurt so much, because  _I_  did. I’ve wanted you for such a long time, and not only as this random, obscure person, my soulmate, who I knew nothing about, but I wanted you! After so long of searching for them, and hoping for them to find me, I gave up, because of you. Because I found someone I wanted more than my soulmate, someone that I…” Viktor stopped talking with a slight blush and turned away.

“I wanted you, Yuuri. And when I saw your mark out there, and realized that you knew for years and didn’t tell me, all I could think of was that you… that you felt nothing for me. That this… what was between us, this bond, and the sort of friendship that I thought we’ve shared, that all of this was meaningless. And you… you really hurt me.”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Yuuri’s heart was beating painfully hard. There seemed to be so much noise all of the sudden; the crickets in the garden, the distant barking of the dogs, the soft murmur of the restaurant seeping in through the open window.

He was crying.

He gasped, whipping his head away in a weak attempt to stop Viktor from seeing. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and curled in on himself, trying to contain the oncoming panic attack.

He hurt Viktor. He hurt Viktor so badly, he made him think he hated him, he pushed him away, when all he ever wanted was to take care of him and hold him close and never let him go. He caused all this pain to the person he loved most in the entire world because he was selfish and stupid. He hurt him because he’d listened to those disgusting voices inside his head for such a long time, and this all could’ve been avoided if only he wasn’t an insecure, barely functioning, weak, pathetic–

“Shh, shh, Yuuri” he heard Viktor’s voice, and he could feel his warm body next to himself, and then there was a hand on his back and another on his knee, and he sobbed loudly, and he couldn’t contain it anymore.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-s-so sorry, V-Viktor, I-I never m-m-meant to hurt you, I-I-“

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, Yuuri. I know you. You’d never hurt me, or anyone else for that matter, on purpose. I forgive you” Viktor whispered in his ear, and Yuuri could feel the scared tension releasing its grip on him, and he sobbed again, pushing closer to Viktor.

“I’m sorry” he mumbled, clutching Viktor’s plain shirt with his shaking hands, not able to fight down his need to be close to him any longer. He could feel Viktor’s arms closing around him and pulling him even closer.

“I’m sorry too, Yuuri. I should’ve been more upfront about my feelings for you. That… soulmark line thing at that banquet was a horrible idea, and I should’ve listened to Chris when he told me not to say something stupid like that” he murmured, one of his hands coming up to caress Yuuri’s hair. “We both should’ve tried to communicate better. We should’ve had this conversation a long time ago, and that’s not just on you. I did my fair share of not telling you about my feelings.”

“I forgive you too” Yuuri hummed, burying his face in Viktor’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. He could feel tears dripping onto his hair.

They sat there for a long time, trying to calm down, basking in each other’s affection and warmth. The debris between them was mostly gone. Yuuri was certain that there were still things they needed to talk about, a lot of pain left unattended, but he was also certain that they would have a lot more time to work through all of it. He smiled softly, the dried tears on his face the only memory that he’d been crying.

“So… what happens now?” Viktor asked when he noticed Yuuri moving.

“I don’t know” he mumbled, pulling away, not wanting to deal with another “what’s the plan” question. Viktor let him go, but one of his arms was still around him, and Yuuri couldn’t help but reach for the hand now resting in Viktor’s lap.

The older man smiled at him, that big, radiant smile, the one that Yuuri had always thought the most beautiful and happiest smile in the world, and not even the tearstains on Viktor’s face could ruin the effect.

“Well, we have time to figure it out” he shrugged, eyes never leaving Yuuri. He didn’t feel the need to keep his gaze away from Viktor either.

Their peaceful gazing into each other’s eyes was interrupted by a loud growl from Yuuri’s stomach. Yuuri blushed a brilliant shade of red and Viktor laughed with mirth glinting in his eyes.

“We should probably get cleaned up and eat something” Viktor suggested, grinning.

“I’ll get something from the kitchen” Yuuri nodded. Of course, they could’ve eaten down in the dining hall, but… he wanted Viktor all to himself, for just a bit longer.

“Okay. I’ll be right here” Viktor smiled gently, stroking Yuuri’s back one more time.

***

After the quickest shower in his life and then dinner with Viktor, Yuuri found himself sitting on Viktor’s bed again. It was getting really late, and part of Yuuri told him that he should probably let the Russian get some rest, but he didn’t want to leave. He felt like they had spent way too much time apart already.

Viktor must’ve felt the same, because he moved back on the bed and held his hand out for Yuuri.

“Let me hold you for a bit?” he asked, uncertain. Yuuri didn’t make him ask a second time; he was next to Viktor before he could even finish the sentence. The older man chuckled, then pulled him down so that they were lying in the middle of the bed, Viktor’s arms around him, his head on Viktor’s shoulder. He sighed contentedly.

He basked in the warm, safe feeling for a while. It couldn’t have been more than four or five minutes when he looked up.

“Viktor, I w–“ The words died on his lips. Viktor was fast asleep.

He smiled gently, reaching up to brush Viktor’s bangs out of his face. He looked so peaceful; Yuuri decided not to wake him. He had to be completely exhausted: Yuuri himself felt absolutely drained, and he wasn’t the one who had just flown over from America. He dropped his head back on Viktor’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

***

“Ngh… cold” Yuuri mumbled, cuddling closer to the body next to him. He felt movement, and what little warmth came from the other person was gone. Before he could’ve complained however, there was a warm blanket on him, and the body was back.

He hummed happily, and fell asleep once more.

***

There were soft, dry lips on his neck and arms around his waist. He sighed and pushed back into the warmth behind him. There was a chuckle, and he felt the arms tighten around him.

“Good morning, Yuuri” Viktor murmured into his ear, then planted another kiss on his neck. Yuuri turned around, gazing up at him, smiling happily.

“Good morning, Viktor” he answered, bumping his forehead to Viktor’s. His gaze wandered to Viktor’s lips, suddenly realizing that despite having slept in the same bed last night, and despite the neck kisses Viktor woke him with, they’d never actually kissed.

Apparently, Viktor’s mind was heading the same direction, because his lips curled into a seductive grin, and he pushed Yuuri onto his back, kneeling above him.

Yuuri’s lips parted, and his eyes were fixed on Viktor’s.

Suddenly, he started laughing and turned his head away.

“S-sorry!” he forced out through his giggles. “Morning b-breath!” he protested. Viktor stared at him for a second, with an expression that read ’what the hell, Yuuri’, then huffed, and suddenly there were lips on Yuuri’s lips.

Viktor kissed him deeply, passionately, just like he expected Viktor would kiss, pinning Yuuri’s arms to the bed above his head, completely dominating the kiss.

Yuuri absolutely loved it.

“I don’t care” Viktor purred after his mouth left Yuuri’s in favor of the younger’s collar bone. Yuuri gave way to a breathless laugh, and squirmed until Viktor let his hands go. Then, he pulled the Russian back up for another kiss.

***

They’d ended up agreeing that they’d spend the next season in their respective cities, visiting each other as often as they could, and after that, Yuuri would move to Russia. They weren’t absolutely sure Yakov would coach him, but he wasn’t the only coach in the entire city, and Viktor was certain Yuuri would easily find someone to take him on.

If nobody else agreed, he said, Viktor would become his coach himself.

Yuuri laughed, but his heart was beating wildly at the thought.

Viktor flew home a week later, even though saying goodbye tore viciously at both their hearts. Yuuri only spent a couple more days in Hasetsu before flying back to Detroit. Now that his personal life was finally sorted out, he had to get back in shape to be able to participate in the upcoming season. He had to work hard to qualify for the Grand Prix, since his little stunt last year was far from appreciated by figure skating officials.

It was great to be back in the little flat Phichit and him shared, as strange as that was. He hadn’t really thought of it this way before, but during the years he’d spent there, Detroit became a second home to him. Now that he realized that he’d only live here for less than a year longer, he felt strangely attached to the city.

Phichit was ecstatic to have Yuuri back, and he pulled every tiny detail out of him, starting from the moment he first saw Viktor’s soulmark until the moment Viktor stepped through the gate at the airport a week earlier. To Yuuri’s relief, he refrained from any comments concerning the way Yuuri had almost ruined his own relationship with his soulmate, and instead vowed to say sorry to Viktor for all the bad things he had said about him. He dismissed Yuuri’s reminder about how Viktor had never heard any of that.

A week or so later, he got a call from Christophe, who got his number from Viktor, telling him how glad he was that they managed to figure out their relationship, and how he hoped the two of them had learned their lesson about proper communication for the rest of their lives, because he was  _done_  putting up with a pining, sulky Viktor.

Viktor and him talked every day, and when they weren’t talking, they were constantly texting. Luckily, the time zones were manageable, if not perfect, so they could always catch each other between practice and rest time. Their schedules barely ever lined up, but they were beyond caring; as far as Yuuri was concerned, any day was a perfect day when he got to see Viktor, or at least hear his voice.

In the meantime, he was trying to adjust to regular life again. He didn’t need Phichit’s warning about not being “that guy”, who forgot about the rest of the world once he was in a relationship. He kept himself busy by revising his studies, to be more prepared, he kept indulging Phichit when it came to shopping and long walks in the city, and he worked on his new routines.

On Viktor’s continued insistence, he’d finally decided to see a psychologist about his anxiety. He felt like he needed one even less than before, but after explaining his problems to Viktor, the Russian brought it up during every conversation they’d had, and Yuuri finally gave in.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be.

Everything was in its place.

And Yuuri was happy.

***

Yuuri kissed Viktor deeply, pulling him down on the bed. He took a second to mentally thank Phichit for leaving the flat this evening, thus allowing them to be alone for a night.

“Yuuuuuri” Viktor whined, nuzzling Yuuri’s neck, prompting him to laugh.

“Yes?”

“You’re amazing.”

“You’re quite extraordinary yourself, my love.”

Viktor giggled happily, and Yuuri couldn’t help but kiss him again, his hands sneaking under Viktor’s shirt.

“Also really, really adorable” he added when their lips parted. Viktor grinned, hands skimming over Yuuri’s thighs.

“At the moment, I’m not exactly trying to go for adorable” he said, leaning in to tease Yuuri’s neck with his tongue. Yuuri smiled and tugged on Viktor’s shirt.

“Don’t worry, I can see the effort” he teased, earning an unhappy noise from Viktor. He laughed once more. “Hands up, darling” he said, peeling the shirt off, and then planting a kiss on the other man’s collar bone. Viktor sighed.

“So are we actually going to have sex now, or should I not work myself up too much?” he asked, prompting Yuuri to blush.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want this during the previous couple of times, it was always the circumstances! Like Phichit being home. Or, on one occasion, Viktor’s dog breaking into the bedroom. Or that time when Yuuri got scared, and Viktor misunderstood his quickening breathing, and Yuuri didn’t want to stop him, and ended up working himself into a panic attack.

“You’re an ass” he blurted out, pushing Viktor down on the bed, earning another giggle.

“Yep, and a really fine one at that!”

He shook his head and pinned Viktor’s arms to the bed, kissing him deeply to stop him from laughing. Not that he didn’t like the humor. The way Viktor treated the whole thing, his calm, happy, teasing behavior helped Yuuri stay calm too.

Because of course he was worried. He wanted their first time to be perfect, like in his dreams, but he had no experience whatsoever to speak of, and he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to make it good for Viktor. And even though they had talked about this, Yuuri couldn’t help but fret over it.

“Can I take your shirt off?”

Yuuri nodded. Viktor had become very careful about constantly asking questions, ever since the panic attack fiasco. Yuuri understood it, of course, and he didn’t want to be in that situation again either, but part of him really wished Viktor would just be able to tell when he was having problems instead of having to ask.

Patience, of course, was key here.

After getting rid of his glasses and T-shirt, Viktor pulled him down, arms around his neck, wordlessly asking for more contact. Yuuri was more than glad to indulge him; he leaned on his elbows, mostly lying on top of Viktor, gently peppering kisses all over his face. Viktor closed his eyes and sighed happily, unable to contain his smile.

He was so beautiful it almost hurt.

“I love you” Yuuri whispered once he reached Viktor’s ear before heading back to lock their lips together. Viktor hummed, hands caressing Yuuri’s back, small, feather light touches lighting his senses on fire.

“Me too” he muttered, gazing up at Yuuri. It looked like there were stars in his eyes. Yuuri smiled widely, when suddenly an idea hit him.

“Turn around” he commanded, lifting himself up and sitting back on his heels to give Viktor space to move. The man gave him a questioning look, but did what he asked anyway, turning onto his stomach, resting his head on his arms.

Yuuri looked him up and down, eyes travelling from his sculpted back to his magnificent ass still covered in multiple layers of clothing, and then back up until he landed on the small circles and sharp edges on his nape, the sign that he belonged to Yuuri and Yuuri alone. He leaned down and kissed it. Viktor gasped, his head slipping off his arms, now buried in the pillow.

He laid gentle kisses around the mark at first, then he started gently nipping at the back of Viktor’s neck. He basked in the shivers that ran through Viktor’s body, the sight of Viktor’s hands that were now grabbing the pillow below him with whitening knuckles, the muffled, heavy breathing, and the knowledge that he was the one to cause these reactions. He gave a sudden bite, making Viktor moan. He couldn’t help the rush of breath escaping him. Seeing Viktor like this, completely trusting himself to Yuuri felt absolutely empowering.

“Yuuri” Viktor sighed, turning his head to the side. Yuuri didn’t hesitate kissing his face.

“Okay?” he asked.

“More than” the Russian smiled. “You’re welcome to do more” he suggested. Yuuri nodded, leaving one more kiss on Viktor’s cheek before straightening up. He carefully trailed his hands down Viktor’s back, not really certain what to do, but more than willing to try. He remembered how much he enjoyed Viktor’s light touches on his back, so he tried to do something similar, and by the heaviness in Viktor’s breathing, it seemed that he was doing the right thing.

“Use your mouth too” he whispered, the commanding tone to his voice sending shivers down Yuuri’s spine. He bent down to follow the trails of touch with trails of kisses, prompting satisfied noises from Viktor. Upon reaching the line of his pants, Yuuri faltered a bit, not sure if he should move back up or get rid of the piece of clothing. Eventually, he ended up doing neither; instead, he let his hands caress Viktor’s ass through the clothes, still teasing the small of his back with his tongue.

“Y-Yuuri!” he looked up to see Viktor raising himself up a bit to be able to look at him properly.

“Y-yes?” he asked, palms still cupping Viktor’s ass.

“I want to see you” he said, still panting. Yuuri blushed, but climbed off of Viktor’s legs to let him turn back, and was immediately pulled back down for a passionate kiss. He resumed his kneeling position above the older skater, careful not to break the kiss. One of Viktor’s legs came up around him, pulling him closer, while his hands found their way into Yuuri’s hair.

“C-can I?” Viktor stuttered slightly, one hand slipping down to Yuuri’s elbow. For a second, he wasn’t sure what Viktor was asking, but then he understood with a quiet gasp. He nodded, breath quickening as he wondered what the feeling would be like. Viktor seemed so responsive when Yuuri had touched his mark, but Viktor was quite responsive anyway.

Long fingers slowly caressed his skin, tracing a path around the shape on Yuuri’s shoulder, then, ever so carefully, running over the black lines on his skin, making him pant and rest his forehead against Viktor’s.

It was an almost shockingly powerful and complex feeling; it felt like raw fire itself was burning light trails into his arm, and at the same time like gentle breeze caressing it. It felt like the connection between him and Viktor had been magnified and now threatened to spill over and engulf Yuuri completely. It felt like Viktor’s first touch, immensely satisfying and soothing, while also overwhelming and burning.

“Viktor” he sighed, before kissing Viktor again. This time, it turned into breathy, open mouthed kisses, both of them already overwhelmed. Viktor pulled Yuuri even closer, lifting his hips to meet him, and even through multiple layers of clothing, their erections meeting earned a chocked moan from both men.

Without questions this time, Viktor started undoing Yuuri’s belt, straining to still be able to reach far enough to place kisses and bites on Yuuri’s neck. But the position turned out to be unfortunate for Viktor to be undressing him: after a tug on his pants, Yuuri lost his balance, almost butt-heading Viktor as he fell onto him. For a second, they both just lay there, trying to catch up with the situation, then they both broke out laughing.

“O-okay” Viktor laughed. “Maybe that wasn’t the best way to be doing that.”

Yuuri grinned, nodding, and then propping himself up on his elbows. He just managed to catch the mischievous look on Viktor’s face before he found himself on his back, Viktor on top of him.

“This should make it easier” Viktor winked, now actually being able to get rid of Yuuri’s pants. He didn’t have time to glare at him for surprising him though, because Viktor wriggled out of his own pants, and was back on top of Yuuri in no time.

In about five seconds, Viktor managed to make him completely forget about his complaints.

They kept kissing and touching for long minutes, slowly exploring each other’s body, trading positions a few more times, the rain on the window and the distant noises of the street a steady, soothing background to their sighs, gasps and moans. Yuuri found his worries were all washed away with each touch, with each of Viktor’s moans and quiet praises. He was careful as he could be, tenderly and thoroughly preparing Viktor, attentively following each of his requests and reactions, basking in the pleasure written all over his face. Taking care of Viktor made him feel important. To know that Viktor felt safe with him made him almost forget about his own pleasure and want to concentrate on making Viktor enjoy himself.

“Y-Yuuri, милый, a-as much as, I-aaah l-love this, I-I really aaah w-want y-you” Viktor panted, hands fisted in the pillow above him, body shaking from the stimulations Yuuri’s fingers provided for him. If he was being honest, Yuuri was actually having a hard time restraining himself too, but the pleasure he got from watching Viktor fall apart was too strong to just give up.

“In a minute, love” he shushed, twisting his fingers, prompting another loud moan.

“N-no, now, p-p-please” Viktor muttered, one hand grabbing Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri huffed, but let his fingers slip out.

After that, every memory blended together; they moved slowly, to a silent rhythm only they could hear, then faster, chasing the burning pleasure between them, panting, gasping each other’s names, exchanging desperate kisses.

Viktor came with a cry of Yuuri’s name, and Yuuri buried his face in his lover’s shoulder to silence his own groan as he followed him.

They cuddled close together after, disregarding the mess between them, even though they knew it would be a pain to clean up later, and exchanged loving whispers and gentle kisses until they both came down from their high.

The rain kept pattering on the window, and Yuuri listened to Viktor’s steady heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> милый = darling
> 
> I had so many feels about this chapter, I had to physically stop myself from spoiling it on tumblr while writing. I hope you've all enjoyed it as much as I did! Let me know your thoughts in the comments! :D
> 
> There is still an epilogue coming, probably next Saturday. School is starting next week however, so I can only hope that I'll have enough time to finish it. If it's not up on time, check [my blog](https://yoitookovermylife.tumblr.com/) for updates!


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally, a glance into the pair's future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very emotional. (I also fell asleep this afternoon, and woke up like an hour ago with the last paragraph of this still unfinished. School is back in session and I'm exhausted! Yay?)
> 
> Thank you, as always, for the comments and bookmarks and everything and I'll be talking a whole lot more about this in the end notes, so...
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S.: This is really short, but I felt like there is nothing more to say here, except for maybe one scene, but that's kind of angsty and wouldn't fit the mood of this epilogue. I might write it later on as a standalone.

“I’ll be with you before you know it, darling” Viktor says, brushing his fingers along the side of Yuuri’s face. Yuuri smiles nervously.

“I know. I’m okay, I’m okay.” He truly appreciates that Viktor doesn’t point out the glaringly obvious lie. He does feel all kinds of jittery, but it’s a more… excited nervousness. He presses a kiss on Viktor’s cheek, and then steps out on the ice.

It’s been a long Grand Prix Series for both of them. They’ve both been working day and night, not only because they needed to – Viktor because he couldn’t come up with a program until the last minute and Yuuri because he took half a season off –, but also because being together created a new sort of rivalry between them, and they were both determined to come out on top.

Yuuri smiles. Viktor won yesterday, but only by a hair; Yuuri is certain he’ll be able to get the gold at the Worlds. He doesn’t feel bitter at all; he was jumping up and down in excitement the whole time when he watched Viktor’s performances in the first two events. He absolutely deserved that gold medal, and Yuuri is honestly, truly proud of him. As long as it took Viktor to create his programs, they ended up absolutely breath-taking.

Still, Yuuri is convinced that he’ll never be able to love a program more than Stammi Vicino.

Viktor was understandably surprised when Yuuri told him that he wanted to skate it as his exhibition piece. And then he cried after Yuuri explained him that Stammi Vicino meant so much to him because it finally brought the two of them together, that it made the happiness they have now possible, and then he cried even harder when Yuuri told him that he wants Viktor to skate it with him, because only then would it feel complete.

And here they are now, Yuuri in the middle of the ice, and Viktor standing by, waiting for his cue in the music. He’s probably smiling, Yuuri can’t tell from this distance without his glasses on, but he can imagine it no problem.

Then again, he doesn’t have to use his imagination anymore, because Viktor is right there, just a few meters from him, and in a couple of minutes, he will be on the ice with Yuuri, holding him, smiling at him, bright and happy. There is no need for dreams of an unreachable, never-to-be love anymore.

_And tomorrow, they’ll all see how we belong together, my Yuuri._

He lowers his head, fighting his own smile. He feels like his chest is bursting already, and they didn’t even start the program yet.

Jump, jump, Viktor is almost here, jump.

As soon as he lands and regains his balance, he’s holding his hand out, marveling at the way his ring glints in the lights of the stadium, and even before he looks up, Viktor is there, holding his hand, wearing that gentle, happy smile on his face as he easily becomes part of the routine, just like the way he became part of Yuuri’s life.

Of course, it hasn’t been perfect, or without complications. Living so far away from each other wasn’t easy, and just like Yuuri has predicted, they still had a lot of things to talk about after they got together. But they both wanted it, and they were – and are – willing to fight for it. The years before have already started to fade into what seems like bad dreams now, dully painful memories that are now behind them for good.

Yuuri is certain that even though it’s been over half a year, there are still issues they need to talk about, and that once he moves to Russia, there will be a lot of problems they will have to deal with. But all of these, past, present and future conflicts fade in the light of the love that binds them together now. Yuuri has realized that after allowing himself to truly feel it, the love he harbors for Viktor is an unstoppable force.

Sometimes he still questions it, but Viktor is there to help him when it happens.

They twirl around each other, practice and synchronization keeping them from colliding, and Yuuri feels safe, because it’s Viktor by his side, and he will always feel safe with Viktor. They dance as if one mind was moving them instead of two, and Yuuri doesn’t feel worried at all.

They turn to face each other and hold each other with both arms as the music comes to an end. Yuuri stares into Viktor’s eyes and smiles, gleeful, free, and absolutely in love. Viktor looks right back, wearing the same expression, their rings glinting in the light upon them, and it feels like the entire world is just the ice, the two of them and skating.

The audience screams, giving them a standing ovation, chanting both of their names, throwing flowers at their feet. Viktor’s smile turns into a grin as he lets go of Yuuri to turn to them, and Yuuri turns too, but he keeps holding on to Viktor’s hand.

He will always keep holding on to Viktor’s hand.

***

“Tousan!”

“Papa!”

Yuuri grins and turns his head to glance at the twins standing at the door.  From the corner of his eye, he sees Viktor moving his head too.

“Hey kids!” he greets, waving them to come closer. They don’t need to be told twice: they race each other to the sofa where Yuuri is half-lying half-sitting in Viktor’s arms, and they climb on top of them, prompting some grunts and some laughter.

“Papa, papa, what’s a soulmate?”

Yuuri and Viktor glance at each other and then Viktor smiles gently and ruffles Pavel’s locks.

“What’s the sudden interest, Pavlik?”

“Our teacher talked about it! Not much and she’s so boring, we didn’t pay attention–“

“Lidiya” Yuuri reprimands instantly, frowning. The girl blinks innocently, cuddling up to her father.

“But she is, tousan” she says, glaring at her brother, trying to persuade him to get their parent’s attention off of the teacher topic and back on the soulmate topic.

“So what is a soulmate? And what does it have to do with the thingies on our skin?” Pavel asks, wrapping his arms around Viktor’s neck.

“Marks!” Lidiya corrects, firmly nodding. Pavel sticks his tongue out at her, and she kicks his ankle in return. Yuuri shakes his head with a grin, remembering his own time with his sister.

“Well… the marks are there to help you find your soulmate” Viktor starts, the hand he still has around Yuuri gently brushing over his shoulder. “There is one person out there, for every single person, who would recognize your soulmark, and whose soulmark you would also recognize in turn” he explains.

“But that’s a lot of people!” Pavel exclaims. “Do they also live in Russia?”

“Not necessarily” Yuuri says. “Not everyone meets their soulmates. The world is a big place.”

Lidiya looks like she’s thinking hard, then she glances up at her parents.

“Are you soulmates?”

Yuuri looks at Viktor, who smiles back at him. They both nod.

“So how did you find each other?” Pavel asks. Yuuri sighs quietly and brushes Pavel’s hair out of his eyes.

“We’ll tell you when you’re both older. But of course, it was through skating.”

“Were you happy when you did?” Lidiya inquires, looking from one of them to the other. Viktor smiles gently.

“It wasn’t always easy. And you should be prepared for that. It’s not always easy, even if you find your soulmate. But it’s worth fighting for. Because if you’re willing to try, finding them could be the cause of immeasurable happiness.”

The kids glance at each other, obviously not entirely certain how to interpret their father’s words, and Yuuri laughs.

“Don’t worry, you’ll understand–“

“–when we’re older, we know” Lidiya deadpans, prompting laughter from the rest of her family.

“Viktor, I’m worried about the amount of attitude Lidonya is giving us” Yuuri stage-whispers at Viktor. Lidiya giggles quietly, eyes filled with glee.

“Well, she  _is_ your daughter, darling” Viktor replies immediately, earning a glare from his husband and a burst of laughter from their children.

“The point is” Yuuri says, turning back to the kids, electing to ignore Viktor for a bit. “that we are very happy together, and with the two of you.”

Viktor smiles happily, planting a kiss on Yuuri’s face and receiving a light slap on the chest in return.

And then a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s getting late” Yuuri says, slightly blushing, but smiling. “You two have school tomorrow, so it’s bedtime!”

“Race you to the bedroom!” Lidiya shouts, untangling herself from her dad.

“No fair, you’re closer to the door!” Pavel exclaims, and shoots after his sister after a few painful seconds of getting off the sofa.

Yuuri and Viktor laugh and untangle themselves as well.

“They took a long time asking” Yuuri says off-handedly.

“Well, I didn’t ask before I went to school either” Viktor shrugs. He then steps next to Yuuri, wrapping his arm around his waist. Yuuri turns around and embraces him.

“Let’s get our kids into bed” he smiles, bumping his forehead to Viktor’s, who smiles back.

“I’m awake, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because it feels like I’m in the most amazing dream I’ve ever had.”

“You’re such a sap” Yuuri snickers, earning a betrayed gasp from Viktor.

“But darling!”

Yuuri just keeps laughing as he walks out of the room.

***

Viktor snuggles up to Yuuri, listening to his soft, rhythmic breathing. There is quiet chatter in the other room, because Lidonya and Pavlik still think that their parents can’t hear them when they stay up chatting after bedtime, but as usual, Viktor can’t be bothered to tell them to go to sleep.

Between his children’s voices from the other room and his husband’s breathing, he suddenly remembers the long years of loneliness, the yearning for a partner and for a family. He remembers all the pain and all the struggles, and everything he went through before Yuuri.

And he remembers how the man in his arms changed all of that, and how together, they turned their lives into what they are now.

He kisses Yuuri’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here, Yuuri Katsuki” he whispers, even though he knows Yuuri is sleeping. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tousan, papa - the former is Japanese for father (thank you to Angelfish10 who pointed out an incorrect word usage here), and papa is dad in Russian. HC that if Yuuri and Viktor have kids (adopting, surrogate, whatever, although in this case I imagined that they adopted the twins), they call Yuuri dad in Japanese, and call Viktor dad in Russian to avoid confusion :D
> 
>  
> 
> And that, my dear readers, is the end of this story.
> 
> I want to thank every single person who read this fanfiction from start to finish, especially to the people who kept encouraging me, be it by comments, or show of support through bookmarks and subscriptions, or even just liking the posts about new chapters on tumblr. Every single time that one of the numbers on this fic increased, I was squeeling with joy, because it told me that people are enjoying this, and it kept me writing.
> 
> I was worried that I wouldn't be able to see this through, because I have the bad habit of starting fics and not finishing them (see the 20+ unfinished fanfics sitting on my computer), but the amount of love and enthusiasm you threw my way made me thrilled to be writing this. I was on the edge of my seat and constantly checking the comments after I posted a chapter, and thinking about what you guys will think of the new chapters made me giddy about getting them out.
> 
> So, thank you. Because without your support, this could have easily ended up being one of the "drafts I'll never finish", hidden in an obscure folder on my laptop.
> 
> Writing this has been an amazing summer journey, and I hope that all of you have enjoyed it as much as I did!
> 
> As far as other stories go, I'll mostly be working on short stories during the semester, because although I have at least three other multichapter ideas, I wouldn't be able to update consistently. So, unless I end up having a creative streak and write a whole multichapter story in a few days to then upload in separate chapters (which actually might happen), I will most likely be uploading short stories until January at the very least.
> 
> Thank you again, for sticking with me and this story for all this time!
> 
> Bye~ <3
> 
> ~~P.S.: I will be going through the whole fic to fix some spelling and grammatical and other mistakes, and since I don't know if AO3 will make it show up as an update, this is a heads up that if you get a notification of this updating, that just means I've uploaded the fixed chapters ^^"~~


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